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By 



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"On Being Abroad In Winter," 
Etc. 




(Hmtpr bg W. (S. Srljaeflfer 



Slip Artil dio,, illiara, N. |. 

publishers 
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SYRACUSE, N. Y. 



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Copyright, 1909 

By O. D. VON Engeln and 

D. M. DeBard 



At Cornell 
Published June, 1909 



Monotyped and Printed by 

ullje Art IfrpBH 

SYRACUSE, N. Y. 




The author is much indebted to Professor R. S. 
Tarr, President Schurman and Joseph P. Harris 
of the University for criticism and kind suggestions 
in connection with the manuscript. 

An effort has been made to avoid using hack- 
neyed "view book" illustrations; and what success 
has been attained in this respect is due in large 
part to the kindness of Messrs. G. F. Morgan and 
Fred Robinson, photographers, in permitting the 
use of their unique views and portraits. 

Thanks- are also due the publishers of Harper's 
Weekly for permission to reproduce in this volume 
parts of an article originally written for and pub- 
lished in that periodical. 

The Author. 



Qlnntrtttfi 



AcKNOWLEDGEMfeXTS vii 

The Typical American College 1 

The Cornell Campus — A Guide Book Chapter . 11 

Up and Down Central Avenue 53 

Campus Walks and Paths 67 

The Founder — Ezra Cornell 81 

Cornell Historical Interests 99 

The Fiske McGraw Mansion and the Chi Psi Fire 127 

Earth History of the Cornell Country . . . 143 

The Waters of Cayuga 173 

In. Indian Times 195 

Taughannock 211 

Watkins Glen 229 

Wild Flowers Haunts and the Seekers of Them 249 

Student Life of Every Day 263 

The Working Student at Cornell 289 

Winter Sports 305 

Phases of the Athletic Life 315 

Customs and Traditions 329 



iCtBt nf 3Uu0lrati0nfi 



Title 

In College Precincts Frontispiece 

"A Short Cut to Learning" on the Cornell 
Campus 

The White Gateway 

A First Glimpse of Cornell from the Train- 
Window 

The Square Cascadilla Building 

The Arch of the Cascadilla Bridge and the 
Falls Below It 

The Armory 

The Totem Pole 

Sage College Tower 

Sage Chapel Entrance 

Sage Chapel Interior 

The Unruffled Reach of Lake Cayuga 

The Quadrangle from the Library Tower. . 

McGraw Hall 

The View Up the Valley 

Sibley College 

Triphammer Falls and Beebe Lake 

Lincoln Hall, Through the Trees 

The Portal of Goldwin Smith Hall 

New York State College of Agriculture. . 

Liberty H. Bailey, Director of the New 
York State College of Agriculture, 
at Cornell University 



Photographer Page 
von Ens.eln 



von Engeln 


5 


von Engeln 


12 


Todd 


13 


Morgan 


15 


von Engeln 


16 


Head 


17 


Reid 


18 


Al organ 


20 


von Engeln 


21 


Morgan 


23 


Head 


25 


von Engeln 


26 


Morgan 


29 


Head 


33 


von Engeln 


35 


A I organ 


37 


von Engeln 


38 


von Engeln 


39 


Morgan 


41 



Robinson 45 



List of Illustrations — continued 

Title Photographer Page 

The New Approach to the Quadrangle .... vo>i Engeln 49 

"Signs of the Times " von Engeln 55 

The Mightiest Surge of the Year Morgan 58 

Upper Central Avenue von Engeln 59 

When the Elm Trees are Veils of Gray 

Mist von Engeln 63 

GoLDWiN Smith Walk in Winter Morgan 68 

A Waterfall Ensconced in Ferns and 

Shrubbery von Engeln 69 

The Cascadilla Stream ■ • ■ Morgan 71 

Forest Home Path in Autumn Morgan 73 

The Prettiest Waterfall Near the Campus Todd 75 

The North End of Beebe Lake von Engeln 76 

Ithaca Falls from Above von Engeln 77 

The Founder — Ezra Cornell 83 

The Crest of Ithaca Falls von Engeln 88 

The End of the Tunnel 91 

The Approach of Night — Cascadilla Gorge von Engeln 96 
Andrew D. White, First President of the 

University Robinson 101 

Goldwin Smith, Professor of English His- 
tory, Emeritus Alexander 105 

From the First Cornell Stunt Book 109 

President Jacob Gould Schurman Robinson 111 

Hiram Corson, Professor of English Litera- 
ture, Emeritus Robinson 115 

Sage College Terrace Morgan 119 

The Library — Sunset von Engeln 121 

The Fiske-McGraw Mansion Morgan 129 

Interior of the Mansion Morgan 133 

The Work of Frost in Destroying Rock — 

Six-Mile Creek von Engeln 147 

A Fossiliferous Rock Fragment from the 

Cornell Campus 151 

Some Fossils from the Rocks Around 

Cornell 157 



List of Illustrations — continued 

Title Photographer Page 
A Glacial Boulder Deposited Near Cornell 

BY THE Continental Glacier. Shows 

Glacial Scratches 161 

A Suggestion of the Conditions in Lake 

Cayuga at the Close of the Glacial 

Period von Engeht 163 

Where Fall Creek Leaves its Old Valley 

to Cut a Rock Gorge von Engeln 166 

The Rolling Moraine Hills in the Inlet 

Valley von Engeln 168 

The Tumultuous Pageant of Clouds von Engeln 174 

Layer After Layer of Rock Emerges from 

THE Water von Engeln 177 

End of a Valley Glacier Martin 180 

The "Stone Giants," as Pictured by an 

Iroquois Artist Ciisick 183 

Moonlight on Cayuga Lake Morgan 185 

Starting for a Sail on Cayuga von Engeln 190 

The Territory of the Iroquois 197 

Strings of Iroquois Wampum 199 

Typical Bark House of the Iroquois 201 

Taughannock Falls von Engeln 215 

Taughannock Falls Before the Change in 

the Form of the Crest 217 

Buttermilk Gorge. Morgan 219 

In Enfield Glen von Engeln 223 

Where the Waters Make Long Slides von Engeln 233 

The Cavern Cascade von Engeln 237 

The Sylvan Gorge Morgan 239 

The Central Cascade — A Flume Falls von Engeln 242 

The Silver Threads of Rainbow Falls von Engeln '24:b 

The Sunny Slopes of the Hills von Engeln 250 

Where the Hepaticas Flourish von Engeln 252 

The Autumn Woods von Engeln 253 

The Dress Parade of The Trilliums von Engeln 257 

The Golden Rods Decked With Snow von Engeln 260 



List of Ilhtstrations — continued 

Title Photographer Page 

A Campus Vista von Engeln 265 

A Glimpse of Gold win Smith Walk Berry 268 

A Page from "The Widow" (on the Occa- 
sion OF AN Easter Vacation) 269 

Entrance to the Veterinary College von Engeln 272 

The Library Slope — Evening Morgan 275 

A Week in the University Calendar 279 

Class Day — Planting the Ivy Morgan 283 

The Graduation Procession Morgan 286 

On a Winter Afternoon von Engeln 290 

Cornell Undergraduate Publications 295 

A Graduating" Class Robinson 299 

Central Avenue — Winter Ingall 306 

An " Ice Carnival" Group Todd-Morgan 309 

At the Toboggan Slide — The Waiting Line Morgan 311 

"Jack" Moakley at the Board Track vo}i Engeln 316 

A Happy Occasion von Engeln 318 

Courtney and the Coxswains 319 

Courtney at Poughkeepsie 320 

Singing The Alma Mater — Cornell-Har- 
vard Game, 1907 323 

Panorama of the Freshman Banquet Rush. Morgan 330 

Panorama of the Freshman Banquet Rush . Morgan 331 

The Skirmish Line Morgan 334 

A Struggle von Engeln 336 

A Captive von Engeln 337 

"Bill Taft" Heading the 1909 "Frosh 

Peerade " 338 

The " Peerade " of the Frosh Morgan 339 

Spring Day as Celebrated on the Quad- 
rangle von Engeln 341 

A Spring Day Side Show Morgan 343 

Spring Day — The Barker's Stands Morgan 344 

At the Foot of the Slide Morgan 345 

The Senior Singing • Morgan 347 



®l|^ Stgptral Am^riran Olnlbg^ 



iL\}t Sgptral Am^riran Olnlbg^ 



'j[^N a recent newspaper article,* entitled: — 
Jll "Working Students at Harvard," there 

occurred the following paragraph, picturing 
the arrival, at that University, of a freshman from 
a far western state, and presenting him inquiring 
of the bus-driver, who has just set him down, " Where 
is Harvard?" 

"That's Harvard, right over there." The 
slender Westerner thanked him " kindly " and entered 
the yard somewhat bewildered at finding Harvard 
a composite article made up of many more or less 
insignificant buildings, crowded in by commonplace 
streets. He had expected to find it no doubt the 
typical American college, a few imposing edifices, 
surrounded with glorious country, a great campus 
and the Charles River. The few red buildings, 
forming a rectangle, looked like something out of 
the ordinary, it is true, but still he half doubted 
the transfer man's directions, and to make sure, 
he hailed the first man who looked like a student 
with, "vSay, is this Harvard?" 

*New York Tribune, March 24, 1907. Page 4, col. 5 



At Cornell 

"The typical American college, a few imposing 
edifices, surrounded with a glorious country, a great 
campus, and the Charles River." The characteriza- 
tion, you will agree, is so complete as to be epigram- 
matic, for in its few phrases it includes every ideal. 
Yet the writer impliedly negatives the existence of 
this ideal college, and therefore we must perforce 
quarrel with him. For does not Cornell fulfill the 
every requirement of that description? We have 
more than a few imposing edifices, and surely we 
can be justly proud of the great campus. Again, 
instead of the Charles River we may read, with even 
greater enthusiasm, fair Cayuga Lake. The glorious 
country unrolls itself from my window as I write, 
miles and miles of green, sunkissed hilltops and 
dark valleys, gloomed by tall evergreens. The sum 
is complete. Cornell can justly lay claim to be the 
typical American college. More than this she is 
the only one which in all this broad land can satisfy 
all these ideals — and add to them. If other colleges 
meet some, they do it inadequately. 

Yet despite this preeminent position, we Cor- 
nellians, curiously enough, have been so jealous of 
her that w^e have not let the world see too. Her 
fame is that which has been grudgingly accorded 
her because of the victories of her athletic teams, her 
great alumni, her engineers and scholars. This 
earned praise w^e modestly accept, but of the rest 
which is due we say nothing. So little has been 
written of the real, the inspiring Cornell. In one 



The Typical American College 

book there are only a few pictures with no accom- 
panying description; and, although this is the day 
of illustration, when it is often preached that one 
picture tells the story of a chapter of prose; yet, 
without the imagery of words the pictures are 
meaningless. My excuse in venturing to supply 
those which follow is that no one more competent 
has put pen to paper — and, that the attempt has 
long been due her who, 

Far above Cayuga's water 

With its waves of blue, 
Stands: Our noble Alma Mater 

Glorious to view! 

Perhaps the most eloquent reason which has 
deterred more competent writers from attempting 
to put Cornell before the world is her mutability. 
I remember vividly, in connection with this point 
of view, my wonder, when first studying history, 
at reading of a country ravaged and harried by war 
and famine; its people all but destroyed — in one 
paragraph; and then finding them described in the 
next breath, as it were, the time only a hundred 
years later, as enjoying the most abundant pros- 
perity, and their land a very hive of industry and 
the place of palatial cities. This was perhaps due 
to the finiteness and the false perspective of the 
elementary world history, in whose pages a hundred 
years are verily but as a day. Nevertheless we have 
the moral: In America we are still young, very 
young, and of this youth the colleges partake. Thus 



At Cornell 

in the West they consist of characterless brick build- 
ings, with gravel driveways, sapling trees, and an 
air of 'don't walk on the grass' writ large over 
the whole campus. In the East — well, we have the 
freshman's impression of Harvard, its growth hem- 
med in by the more rapid industrial development 
of its surroundings. Yet the typical American col- 
lege has passed the first stage, and fortunately 
escaped the second ; thus Cornell is neither a sapling, 
nor yet a girdled tree — she has traditions, but she 
is still growing. If then freshmen, you find in these 
pages history, instead of reality, you may know 
that the dawn of still another tomorrow has come 
to Cornell since the writing of this book. 

With this conception of the ideal in an American 
college, I can not find myself in sympathy with the 
American professor, happily not of Cornell, who 
mourns for the moss-grown picturesqueness of the 
continental institutions. In a magazine article this 
man quotes from Mr. Benson's essays: "From A 
College Window," as follows: "My room looks out 
into a little court, there is a plot of grass, and to 
the right of it an old stone-built wall, close against 
which stands a row of aged lime-trees. Straight 
opposite, at right angles to the w^all, is the east side 
of the Hall, with its big tracer ied windows enlivened 
with a few heraldic shields of stained glass. While 
I was looking out today, there came a flying burst 
of sun, and the little corner became a sudden feast 
of delicate color ; the rich green of the grass, the 



The Typical American College 

foliage of the lime-trees, their brown wrinkled stems, 
the pale moss on the walls, the bright points of color 
in the emblazonries of the window, made a sudden 
delicate harmony of tints. I had seen the place a 
hundred times before without ever guessing what a 
perfect picture it made. Inside the porter sat in 
his comfortable den with his feet on the fender, 
reading a paper " 

After this quotation, the American professor 
bemoans his fate because he finds that from his 
office window at the University: "The outlook 
is pleasing but lacks inspiration. The grass is green 
enough, when not wholly worn shabby by students 
seeking a short cut to learning. The American elms 
rival the English lime-trees, the sun is brighter, the 
sky bluer than across the waters. But there is no 
den, no porter! The roller top desk, the typewriter 
stand, the filing cabinet greet me with a business- 
like air." And so on. But why? If he can not find 
inspiration in the brighter sun, the bluer sky, and 
the graceful American elms, which not only rival 
but fairly outrival the English limes; let the fates 
help him, he is not an American. 

But be all this as it may; Cornell is today the 
typical American college, even the detail of the 
'short cut to learning' which the professor so much 
deplores, is not lacking. More than that, keeping 
pace with the progress of the American people, 
Cornell is broadly cosmopolitan ; her students 
number representatives from almost every nation 



At Cornell 

in the world. And in herself and her setting, her 
life and activities, her customs and traditions, 
we have a fount of inspiration for the American 
people. 



Qlliapt^r 



®Ij0 (Cnrn^U Olantpua — A (^nxht lock 

Olltapt^r 

jr HE nature lover, and indeed anyone in whom 
I L is not lost a sense of the eternal fitness of 



q: 



things, could scarcely dream of a more appro- 
priate location for a university than that which is 
Cornell's. When the founder, Ezra Cornell, fixed 
upon the height above the southeast end of Lake 
Cayuga as the site for the new university, he was, 
no doubt, moved in his choice by such a feeling of 
the entire adequateness of the place — and today 
the Cornell Campus is everywhere acknowledged 
the most beautiful in America. 

Situated where she commands a broad outlook 
over all the world about — the long line of hills 
across the valley to the west, the blue reach of the 
lake for miles to the north, and the green slopes 
and bottoms of its tributary stream valleys to the 
south and east — Cornell by virtue of her very 
position becomes at once a beacon tower and a 
citadel of our civilization. Nestling at her feet, 
and spreading dovv^n the hillside and across the 
flat floor of the valley below, is the town of Ithaca. 

11 



.4/ Cornell 




If one conies into Ithaca from the east on the 
Lackawanna railroad, or from the west on the 
Lehigh, the trains in each case abruptly descend 
nearly four hundred feet to the valley floor. Coming 
over the Lehigh from the west one gets the best 
first-glimpse of the gray towers, and the red tiled 
roofs of Cornell, as they peep out from between 
the green tree tops of the forest on the summit of 
the hill to the east, opposite. On the other hand, 
coming from the east and south, over the Lacka- 
wanna, one gets a better appreciation of the com- 
manding position of the University, overlooking, 
as one does from the car window, the whole town 
and the blue lake to the north while one is descend- 
ing into the valley by much switching and backing 
over the broad "Z" in the course of this railway, 
necessitated by the steep grade. 



12 




13 



The Cornell Campus — A Guide Book Chapter 

Undoubtedly the best place to enter the Campus 
on a first sight-seeing visit is through the White 
Gateway at the head of Eddy street. This is 
reached directly by the Eddy street car from down 
town, and also, after completing the loop ride, by 
alighting at Eddy street from the Stewart avenue 
car. Imagine then that we are starting from the 
White Gateway to see the Campus. 

Over the gateway is the University seal and 
its motto, expressing in his own words Ezra Cornell's 
ideal of the University's purpose, from the date of 
its inception: "I would found an institution where 
any person can find instruction in any study." The 
sentiment which the donor, President White, has 




15 



At Cornell 




engraved on the west 
entrance of the gate- 
way is also worthy of 
note: 

"So enter that 
daily thou mayest be- 
come more learned and 
thoughtful, 

So depart that 
daily thou mayest be- 
come more useful to 
th}^ country and to 
mankind." 

Passing through 
the gate, and uphill 
along the walk which 
follows the gorge of 
Cascadilla stream, one has on the right the massive, 
square, stone pile of the Cascadilla Building; the 
first building owned by the University. At the 
opening of the school it contained the Registrar's 
and the Faculty offices, besides recitation and stu- 
dent living rooms. It is now wholly given over 
to dormitory purposes. 

Turning abruptl}' a little above this building, 
we face about for a second glimpse of its front, 
and then cross the stone arch bridge over Cascadilla 
Stream. Over the parapet of this bridge one peers 
down with delight at the rushing white of the fall, 
one hundred feet below, known as the Giant's 



Ull|p Arrli of llje (Saaraftilla iBribge 
anh ll|p 3FaIla bploiu it 



16 



The Cornell Campus — .4 Guide Book Chapter 



Staircase ; and then down the length of the gorge for 
the vista far across the Ca3aiga Valley to its distant 
western side. Starting again, we go on up Central 
avenue, passing first on the right the Kappa Alpha 
fraternity house, and directly opposite on the left, the 
Psi Upsilon house, embowered among tall pines. 

At the crest of the rise we gain on our left a 
distant glimpse of Cayuga Lake, with the broad 
lawn and the lodge of the Sigma Phi fraternit}' in 
the foreground. Just across the road is the red brick 
Armory, and attached to it the gymnasium, a 
paltry affair, utterly 
inadequate to the pres- 
ent needs of the Uni- 
versity, although at its 
building it was the 
best equipped college 
gymnasium in the 
country. On the walls 
of its entrance stair- 
way is hung a gallery 
of Cornell's unconquer- 
able crews. Behind 
the gymnasium, in 
the hollow, is the Uni- 
versity heating plant, 
recently enlarged and 
reconstructed to meet 
the increased needs of 

the school. SI,p Armory 




17 



At Cornell 



The Universit}' owes part of its endowment to 
land grants made by Congress under the Morrill 
Act; and, pursuant to the provisions of this, under- 
graduates, with certain exceptions, are required to 
take two years of instruction in military tactics, 
under an officer of the United States Army. The 
broad sweep of lawn on the left of the avenue 
and north of the Armory is the drill ground. It 
is also the scene of the Freshman Banquet Rush 
and the annual Spring Day show, two of the most 
amusing of Cornell student customs. 

At the rear of the Arm- 
ory and a little to the north, 
stands the Totem Pole, 
brought from Alaska by Pro- 
fessor Fernow, who accom- 
panied the famous Harriman 
Expedition to that country. 
These poles are to the Alaskan 
Indian what a coat of arms is 
to a European family. The 
erection of this particular 
specimen on the Cornell 
Campus was preceded by an 
interesting chain of occur- 
rences connected with its 
securing. It seems that the 
Harriman Expedition got 
word of a deserted Thlinket 
Indian village, said to contain giiie Eaum l^ale 




18 



The Cornell Campus — A Guide Book Chapter 

a great number of these totem poles, and to be 
situated on Cape Fox. They readily located it; and 
immediately all the professors from other Univer- 
sities who were members of the expedition, set to 
work to secure one of a small type of poles which 
the Indians kept indoors. Professor Fernow had 
scruples about taking the totems, moreover, he was 
not sure that Cornell wanted one. So it was not 
until some of the others vaunted of their prowess 
in getting down to the ship some unusually large 
specimens of the indoor type, working in pairs, that 
he essayed the same task single handed. Having 
some knowledge of mechanics, as he modestly puts 
it, he easily succeeded in this, and then attempted 
the removal of the large pole now on the Campus. 
At this task the ship's company helped him, with 
their tackle, at a critical moment, else he might 
have been discomfited. Having to choose between 
the two poles, he fixed on the larger weather- 
beaten one, and thus Cornell was the first University 
to secure a ' full-grown ' specimen of the Alaskan 
totem pole. 

Retracing our steps back to Central avenue, 
we next cross South avenue, and come then 
to Sage Cottage, the smaller of the women's 
dormitories. Sage College, across the lawn to the 
right, is the other and larger, women's dormitory; 
but the Botany department is also housed in this 
building and has its conservatories attached as 
a wing. In the cornerstone of Sage College, 

19 



At Cornell 



Ezra Cornell de- 
posited a mys- 
terious letter, of 
which only he 
knew the con- 
tents, saying in 
the closing re- 
marks of his 
speech at the 
laying of the 
stone: "The let- 
ter, of which I 
have kept no 
copy, will relate 
to future gener- 
ations the cause 
of the failure 
of this experi- 
ment, if it ever 
does fail, as I 
trust God it 
never will." Cor- 
nell, it will be 
remembered, was 
one of the first 
schools in which co-education was introduced. 
Continuing up Central avenue, we pass on 
the left, a row of professors' cottages, which extends 
to the Library tower; but opposite the cottages, 
on the right, is Barnes Hall, the home of the Chris- 




g-agp UlDllfgp Snuirr 



20 



The Cornell Campus — A Guide Book Chapter 





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tian Association. In it we will find the trophy room, 
containing a number of the various banners, cups 
and emblems, which proclaim Cornell's victories in 
athletics and debate. Here an interesting half hour 
may be spent; but the rather inadecjuate manner 
in which the collection is displayed is to be regretted, 
and detracts much from its appeal. 

Just beyond Barnes Hall, also on the right, is 
Sage Chapel. In the Memorial Chapel of this are 
interred the Founder and his w4fe ; John McGraw and 
Jennie McGraw Fiske, his daughter ; both the latter 
being notable benefactors of the University. In the 
Sage Memorial Apse are interred the mortal remains 
of Henry W. Sage and his wife, after whom the Chapel 
is named, and whose gift it was to the University. 

The interior decorations of the Chapel are the 
subject of much comment. They include many 



21 



At Cornell 

memorial windows (notably the ones placed last, 
those commemorating the victims of the Chi Psi 
fire, the burning of the famous McGraw-Fiske man- 
sion), whose brilliant coloring contrasts strongly 
with the more somber decorations of the roof, 
though this is also illuminated by glorious splashes 
of color. Of the decoration as a whole, it has been 
said that "it is rich in its suggest iveness of the 
centuries of Christian tradition, harmonious in its 
coloring, and entirely appropriate in its design and 
execution," and the Chapel is now pronounced 
generally to be one of the most beautiful places of 
worship in America. There are but few examples 
of mosaics to be found in the United States which 
rival, in either size or merit, those in the Memorial 
Apse. 

Painted on the brown ground of the center of 
each of the sloping panels of the roof are ecclesias- 
tical emblems on canvases of quatrefoil shape; 
namely, "the temple, the ship on the wave, and 
the ship and the pennant — all symbols of the church ; 
the anchor, which is a symbol of hope and patience ; 
the lamp, of piety and wisdom; the lamb and pen- 
nant, of the Redeemer; the cross, of the redemp- 
tion; the interwoven triangles, of the Trinity; the 
lion, symbol of the Tribe of Judah; the open book 
with a hand pointing to the Beatitudes, symbol 
of the Gospels; the sword and the palm, of martyr- 
dom and victory; the chalice, of faith; the flaming 
heart, of fervent piety and love; the standard, the 

22 



The Cornell Campus — A Guide Book Chapter 

wreath and the crown, symbols of victory over evil; 
the sun, stars and the crescent moon; of the lumi- 
nous nebula which emanates from and surrounds 
the Divine Essence; and finally the burning bush, 
symbol of the religious fervor of the martyrs." 

Cornell students are not required to attend 
chapel at any time, nevertheless the building is 
generally crowded beyond its capacity every Sun- 
day, and at both services, the one in the afternoon 
being principally musical. Before the doors are 
opened one may often see the curious spectacle of 




s'auf (Jllia}jel 3utmor 
23 



At Cornell 

a long waiting line before a church, and standing 
room only is often the order of the day. There are 
reasons for this. The congestion is partly due to 
the attendance of the townspeople, who, however, 
must wait until five minutes after the hour before 
being admitted. But the more potent reason for 
the large attendance is the list of notabilities of 
all creeds, who, on succeeding Sundays, fill the 
pulpit. Of those who have been heard there in 
recent years are the Rev. Lyman Abbott, Edward 
Everett Hale, Hugh Black, Dr. Henry VanDyke, 
Robert Collier, and others of equal renown. 

Emerging from the dim aisles of the Chapel, 
we stand at the foot of the great square tower of 
the Library, from whose spire the chimes ring forth 
their merry peal every morning, noon and night. 
These chimes are one of the first gifts of a senti- 
mental character which the University received; 
and were presented by Miss Jennie McGraw in 
1868. On the great bell w^hich strikes the hours is 
inscribed this stanza, composed for it by Professor 
James Russell Lowell, one of the University faculty 
at the time of its founding: 

" I call as fly the irrevocable hours, 
Futile as air, or strong as fate to make 

Your lives of sand or granite, awful powers; 
Even as men choose they either give or take." 

Before continuing farther we can not do better 
than climb to the top of the tower (obtaining the 
key to the door at the librarian's desk), and, after 

24 



The Cornell Campus — A Guide Book Chapter 




Hift Muntfflrft Srarfj of iCakr (Eayuga 

taking a peep at the mechanism of the great clock, 
clamber up the spiral stairway to the highest plat- 
form. From that lordly vantage point we may 
make a comprehensive survey of our surroundings. 
To the west spreads the broad plain of the Inlet 
delta, rimmed on its far side by the long ridge of 
West Hill. The projecting spur of South Hill is 
the valley boundary to the south, as is East Hill to 
the east. The East Hill comprises the highland on 
which the University is located, and it falls away 
southward to the Six Mile valley, and is cut to the 
southeast by the broad shallow trough of the Casca- 
dilla valley. Directly to the east of the University 
the land is higher than the Campus, but it remains 
nearlv the same level to the northeast. To the 



25 



At Cornell 




ulljr (ipualiranglr from tlir ?Cibrary Soiurr 



north, the most beautiful outlook of all, one surveys 
the unruffled reach of Lake Cayuga stretching away 
as far as the angle of the bend at Crowbar Point 
permits one to see. Beyond that there are indica- 
tions of its extension in the slope of the hills, but 
the blue of the water is hidden. The reach from 
the mouth of the Inlet, marked by the lighthouse, 
to Crowbar Point is the stretch used by the Cornell 
crews during their training. Directly below us is 
spread forth the great quadrangle of the Campus. 

Now having gained our bearings anew, we may 
recommence our tour with a visit to the Library. 
The inscriptions on the bronze tablet in the doorway 
hint a curious story. A few words will suffice to 
explain, without attempting to consider the right 



The Cornell Campus — .4 Guide Book Chapter 

or wrong of the actors. It was the will of Jennie 
McGraw Fiske that after her death a large part of 
her fortune should come into the coffers of the Uni- 
versity; especially to endow a library. This will 
was contested, and her immediate purpose was 
defeated when Cornell lost the suit; but it was in 
a way fulfilled by the gift of her friend Henry W. 
Sage, and to this gift the inscriptions refer. 

The collection of medieval illuminated manu- 
scripts and specimens of early printing, in the 
entrance halls, always attracts attention; and the 
walls of the big reading rooms are hung with the 
portraits of great lecturers. Especially notable is 
a life portrait of the founder, Ezra Cornell. In the 
north wing of the Library is housed the White 
Historical Library, a wonderful collection of books; 
and here are also on exhibition many interesting 
relics connected with the history of the University. 
Other interesting and valuable collections of books 
are the Dante, Petrarch and Icelandic libraries, 
recently acquired by the University. 

In the main librar}^ are some three hundred 
and fifty thousand volumes, to which large addi- 
tions are being made yearly. The reference library 
of about eight thousand volumes is arranged on the 
shelves of the main reading room, which seats some 
two hundred and twenty readers, and are thus 
accessible to any student ; while the rest of the 
volumes are stored in the fireproof stacks in the 
south and west wings of the Library building. A 

27 



At Cornell 

visit to these stacks is well worth while to anyone 
interested in books, as their construction is wholly 
of glass, iron and stone, affording no opportunity 
for the spread of the flames; thus safe-guarding 
this great storehouse of human knowledge. 

Leaving the Library and going still northward 
now along Central avenue, one passes in succession 
Morrill, McGraw and White Halls. These are the 
oldest buildings on the Campus, and from their 
shape and similarity they have not inappropriately 
been called the ''three caskets." This resemblance 
is partly due to the fact that the University, as 
originally planned, was to face the west; and these 
first three buildings all have the ornateness of their 
fronts facing the long slope of the valley, while 
their square backs are ranged along Central avenue. 

In Morrill, the first building erected by the 
University (with stone quarried on the Campus), 
are the University offices, including those of the 
Registrar, an official who is well versed in all that 
pertains to the institution, and who is glad to dis- 
pense information when he is not too busy. On the 
upper floors of Morrill is the laboratory of Experi- 
mental Psychology, worthy of a visit by those 
interested in this science. McGraw, which is next 
in line, contains the departments of Physiography, 
Geology and Zoology. Entering first the south door 
of the building, one sees mounted on the wall a 
huge slab of Triassic Connecticut sandstone with 
gigantic fossil foot imprints of the three-toed Bron- 

28 



The Cornell Campus — A Guide Book Chapter 

tozoum Giganteum (terrible lizard) — one of the 
great biped reptiles of Mesozoic Time, an age whose 
remoteness is measured by perhaps a million years. 
In one of these foot prints even the delicate mold 
of the beast's scales can be clearly seen, preserved 
throughout all the ages which have since passed. 

On the second floor of McGraw^ south entrance, 
is the laboratory of the department of Physical 
Geography, replete with maps, relief models and 
pictures of all the phenomena of the earth's surface 
configuration. It is said to be the most complete 
laboratory for Physical Geography study in the 





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iHrCfjram Wall 
29 



At Cornell 

country. A collection of Alaskan Glacier pictures 
forms a gallery in the upper hallway. 

On the first floor, middle entrance of McGraw, 
and passing through the first door to the left, one 
finds the Silliman collection of mineral specimens, 
with recent additions, handsomely displayed in a 
number of cases. If you have invested money in 
mining stocks it will interest you to peer over the 
collection and note the ores of the metal for which 
you are helping to delve. Indeed, the beauty of 
these specimens makes them attractive to anyone. 
Of especial interest to all visitors is the Musetmi 
of Natural History on the second floor, middle 
entrance of McGraw Hall. This is connected with 
the department of Zoology. The Museum com- 
prises some very noteworthy specimens but in very 
shabby quarters. The morbid person, who likes to 
see monstrosities, may find an attraction here in 
the shape of three legged and two headed calves, 
and other abnormal variations in animal life. Here 
is also an Egyptian mummy, divested of all its 
wrappings, enabling one to see the form and features 
of a man who lived his mortal span thousands of 
years ago. In the gallery above the main floor of 
the Museum is a very complete collection of shells 
from all parts of the world. 

In White Hall are found the College of Architec- 
ture and the recitation rooms of the Mathematics 
department. Here we may pause for a moment to 
clear up a possible misconception. Although the 

30 



The Cornell Campus — A Guide Book Chapter 

College of Architecture, as such, only occupies part 
of White, the activities of its students are by no 
means restricted to these quarters. On the con- 
trary, they go to classes and laboratories in several 
of the other colleges, wherever it may happen, in 
accordance with University economy, that instruc- 
tion in the subject can best be given. For example, 
if the majority of students in Civil Engineering must 
use a certain laboratory, whereas only a small pro- 
portion of Architecture students do, then the labo- 
ratory is to be found as a rule in the Civil Engineer's 
quarters. The same arrangement applies to other 
colleges. The drawing rooms of the College of 
Architecture, which are in White, are models of 
convenience, and are worthy of a climb to any one 
interested, especially as there is almost always a 
collection of art and architectural sketches posted 
on the walls of the display rooms adjoining. 

Beyond White the Central avenue walk termi- 
nates in front of Franklin Hall, the headquarters 
of the Department of Electrical Engineering. This 
building is adorned by a frieze of medallions of 
famous scientists. The cross street from the west, 
which has its terminus here, is University avenue, 
and on it, just beyond Franklin Hall, is Morse Hall, 
a building devoted wholly to the uses of the Chemis- 
try department. With possibly one exception, this 
is the most completely and elaborately equipped 
department on the Campus, of those connected with 
the College of Arts and Sciences. 

31 



At Cornell 

An inspection of the laboratories, with their 
complete equipment of desks with gas, water and 
compressed air cocks, available to each worker, is 
well worth while; as are also the lecture room fit- 
tings. The lecturer's desk is a veritable maze of 
stop-cocks and switches for supplying various gases 
and electrical currents of all intensities, making the 
demonstration of almost any chemical experiment 
feasible in full view of all the class. Visitors are 
privileged to attend single lectures of the University 
courses if they enter without disturbing classes at 
the regular periods; and the lectures in Elementary 
Chemistry often have a spectacular interest. 

In the north wing of the second floor of Morse 
Hall is the Chemical Museum, where are exhibited 
jars of hundreds of chemical compounds in crystal 
form — many of them very rare. The visitor can 
see "how it looks," but of its properties this will 
tell him little. The assay, combustion and electrical 
furnace rooms are in the basement of this wing, 
and are also deserving of a visit. 

The view up the valley, from the entrance to 
Morse, of itself commands the attention. Below is 
spread the wide valley floor, and beyond, in a broad 
perspective, are the lines of the hills with their 
varied configuration, and the play of the light and 
shade on their slopes as the cloud forms hurry in 
procession before the sun. It is an outlook which 
stirs within us the desire to wander over their sides 
to the far distant notches, and look at the great 

32 



The Cornell Campus — ,4 Guide Book Chapter 

world which, it seems, must He beyond, all out- 
spread. Can one wonder, w^hen gazing on such a 
scene, at the trend of primitive peoples, valley born, 
to picture in imagination the lands beyond the hills 
as the realm of myths; a fancy world wherein 
dwelt all that to them was strange and unaccount- 
able? 

Down the slope, to the west of this vantage 
point, is the terrace where stood the famous Fiske- 
McGraw mansion, afterwards the Chi Psi fraternity 
house, whose destruction by fire, w^ith a loss of 
seven lives, marks at once one of the greatest trage- 
dies and the brightest star of heroism in the history 
of Cornell. A new lodge takes the place of the one 
thus destroyed, but money can never restore the 
art and the furnishings of the former mansion, on 









ll^g^ , . ^^.,_j^j,,^^^^^j^ ■ .r£ ■ 




■an 



S'iblrg QJoUrgp 
35 



At Cornell 

which the builders lavished thousands, and ran- 
sacked Europe to provide it with fittings and 
decoration. 

Retracing our steps now toward the east, we 
pass along before the length of Sibley, the home 
of the College of Mechanical Engineering. The 
recitation and drawing rooms are in front, while 
behind, in separate buildings, are the shops, testing 
and dynamo laboratories, and the forge and foundry. 
Under the central dome of Sibley, w^hich w^as added 
recently to fill in the gap between tw^o buildings 
which formerly stood on its flanks, is Sibley Hall, 
on the second floor; and on the first floor, below 
this, the Sibley Club Room, the meeting place of 
the Sibley students. In a case in this room is 
preserved an interesting relic, the first telegraph 
instrument. This relic is of especial interest to 
Cornellians, for by the financial success of the tele- 
graph, due largely to his scheme of stringing the 
wires on poles, Ezra Cornell's fortune was amassed; 
and this fortune he- subsequently gave in large part 
to the University. The original tape of the first 
message lies beside the instrument, and on it may 
be read the historic words, "What hath God 
wrought?" 

Turning north, and then again to the east for 
half a block, we digress now for a few moments 
from the quadrangle, to peer from the iron bridge 
over Fall Creek, dowm on Triphammer Falls, and 
the Hydraulic Laboratory of the Civil Engineers; 

36 



TJie Cornell Campus — .4 Guide Book Chapter 



a building sug- 
gestive of a 
gray, old cas- 
tle. Above the 
falls is Beebe 
Lake, and be- 
low it is the 
deep gorge, 
which in its 
traversing, will 
afford quite an 
experience to 
the visitor who 
hails from a 
section where 
such chasms 
are not found. 
On return- 
ingf to the 




aripliammrr iFallH aitli iSfcbc iCakp 



quadrangle and 
to the point in front of Sible3^ at w^hich we left it, 
and turning south from there, we pass the many 
gabled, ivy covered Lincoln Hall, w^here the College 
of Civil Engineering is housed. This college has a 
very pleasant location, with a beautiful clump of 
oaks just in front of the building, under which trees 
the Class Exercises, of the senior class, are held at 
commencement time. 

It will be well worth while to step out under the 
low hung branches of these trees, to get the effect, 



37 



At Cornell 




iCiiinihi li^all, iiH|rougJi tl|P iSttts 

from this point, of the long front of Goldwin Smith 
Hall of Humanities, the most imposing building on 
the Campus, and one whose architecture has been 
alternately lauded greatly or condemned utterly. 
There are those who say it is a composite of a Grecian 
temple in the middle and an Indian wigwam at 
each end. On the other hand, the simplicity of its 
lines, the suggestiveness of its solid proportions; 
and especially the compelling power of the massive 
columns of the central portal, combined with the 
gleaming white of its material, lend it a grandeur 
which makes its own impression on the unprejudiced, 
unprofessional observer. 

In the entrance hall are the busts of Gold- 
win Smith and his wife, the latter after a model 
by Thorwaldsen. There is also a bust of King 



38 



The Cornell Campus — A Guide Book Chapter 



Alfred of England, the gift of Goldwin Smith and 
his wife. 

In the basement rooms to the right and left of 
the entrance hallways is the Museum of Classical 
Archaeology, composed of plaster casts of the mas- 
terpieces of antique sculpture and bronzes. These 
are full size and over five hundred in number. As a 
museum of classical sculpture this is said to be un- 
excelled among 
the collections 
of American 
Universities, and 
among other 
foundations only 
by that of the 
Museum of Fine 
Arts of Boston. 

The modern 
class and lec- 
ture rooms of 
Goldwin vSmith 
Hall also at- 
tract attention 
because of their 
convenience, 
and the invi- 
tation to work 
which they 
seem to extend ; 

the latter a qual- si|p j^ortal of (SolJimiM 0mitl? t^all 




39 



At Cornell 

ity sadly lacking in some of the older buildings. 
On the second floor is an educational museum 
which has an especial interest for teachers. 

Emerging from Goldwin Smith Hall, through 
the south doorway, we see facing us, and completing 
the quadrangle, to the right Boardman Hall, the 
Law School building; and to the left Stimson Hall, 
the College of Medicine. Goldwin Smith, Stimson, 
Boardman and the Library are built of the same 
material, and in time of building date from youngest 
to oldest in the order named. Thus they illustrate 
the progressive changes in appearance that a build- 
ing of such stone undergoes on exposure to the 
weather, and they are the stock illustration of this 
phenomenon to students of architecture and geology. 

The laboratories and dissecting rooms of Stim- 
son are interesting, but the latter are closed to 
visitors while the term's work is in progress. 

Turning now again to the east, and crossing 
East Avenue, we find ourselves under the pines 
which surround the residence of former President 
of the University, Andrew Dickson White, educator, 
diplomat, author; the most famous living personage 
intimately connected with the history of Cornell. 

His residence adjoins the Rockefeller Hall of 
Physics, which is of the same date as Goldwin Smith 
Hall of Humanities, but contrasts with that building 
in that Rockefeller Hall expresses the acme of utility 
in construction, whereas architecturally, Goldwin 
Smith Hall makes also an appeal to the aesthetic 

40 




< 



«t 



TJie Cornell Campus — A Guide Book Chapter 

sense. Thus, although the interior arrangement of 
Goldwin Smith Hall is almost ideal, yet in the 
building of Rockefeller Hall the beauty of a thing 
has been measured solely by its utility. In the 
equipment of Rockefeller, the Physics department 
pressed into service every principle of the physics 
they teach, and the result is that the lecture and 
recitation halls are fitted up with all manner of 
devices for making demonstrations and experiments 
in their science; and for the convenience of those 
using them. The question comes up in every com- 
munity when the building of a new school is con- 
templated, whether every cent expended shall 
subserve utility, or whether the beauty of the 
edifice shall also be considered. A suggestion on 
this question may be gained perhaps, by a com- 
parison of Goldwin Smith Hall of Humanities and 
Rockefeller Hall of Physics. 

On a slight rise behind, and some two blocks 
beyond Rockefeller Hall, are the new buildings of 
the College of Agriculture. The architecture of 
these is at once simple and impressive, and their 
location, overlooking a broad sweep of fair fields 
and farm checkered hillsides, is typical of the over- 
lordship that science, as embodied in the college, is 
gaining over agricultural pursuits. 

The various departments in this college are of 
especial interest, intimately connected as they are 
with our daily economy. Here is also found the 
station, for the Ithaca region, of the United States 

43 



At Cornell 

Weather Bureau. A half hour spent in it means an 
intelhgent appreciation of the problem with which 
the forecasters of the weather are daily wrestling. 

In the far eastern wing of the college, on the 
ground floor, are located the Dairy and Cheese- 
making departments, and in these the various pro- 
cesses of the manufacture of such products is 
illustrated in an especially interesting and instructive 
way, so that every rural visitor may see how a 
dairy can be conducted with a care for cleanliness 
which is thoroughly scientific. 

The entomological collections and the equip- 
ment of the department of Domestic Economy on 
the upper floors have a great interest for many, the 
latter especially for feminine visitors. 

From the broad, terraced approach to the 
Agricultural College one looks over Alumni Field, 
with its tennis courts, base ball diamond and run- 
ning track. This is the University's new athletic 
field, in whose construction an immense amount of 
grading was necessary, but which, completed, affords 
athletic facilities at once adequate and accessible 
from the Campus; thus eliminating the greatest 
drawback to a general participation in athletic 
sports, which the great amount of time consumed 
in going to and coming from Percy Field, down in 
the valley, formerly offered. 

Turning again toward the main part of the 
Campus we have yet to see the Veterinary College 
and the Fuertes Astronomical Observatory. Of the 

44 




Eibprtu t*i. iHailry 

lirrrtor of tl?e Sfpm Bork Btatt (Enllcgf of Agrirulturc 

at (Honipll Uniwersity 



The Cornell Campus — A Guide Book Chapter 

latter we can see from this point the three bald- 
pated domes which shelter the telescopes. Visitors, 
except those especially interested, are not admitted 
to the Observatory because of the close quarters. 
In the Veterinary College is a museum which is of 
interest to animal lovers and owners; and before 
the college is one of the most beautiful lawns of 
the Campus. It may be appropos here to say that 
the Veterinary College, and also the College of 
Agriculture, are New York State institutions under 
the direction and management of Cornell Univer- 
sity, but are supported entirely by annual state 
appropriations . 

We find ourselves now again on East avenue 
and in the shade of the Ostrander Elms. These 
trees were the gift of John B. Ostrander, a poor 
man, who nevertheless wanted to contribute some- 
thing to the new University; and therefore offered 
the trees with the sentiment, expressed to Henry W. 
Sage: "They will make a shade for somebody after 
you and I are gone." In our weariness we are 
grateful to him, and, our round completed, in our 
weariness again, we realize the magnificent propor- 
tions of the Campus, extending as it does over a 
half mile north and south, and almost a mile in the 
east and west directions. 

As all but the laboratory classes are of one 
hour's duration, it is when the big bell in the tower 
of the Library strikes, "at the hour," that the 
Campus best reflects University activity. Then, at 

47 



Ai Cornell 

once, the walks and cross paths are suddenly 
thronged with students and graduates, idling or 
hurrying, depending on whether they are "studes" 
or students, from one class to the next; which next 
class perchance meets in a building a quarter mile 
distant. It is an animated scene; freshmen patter 
back and forth, wearing their little gray caps, 
groups of upper-classmen gather in entrance hall- 
ways, and perhaps the chorus of the latest popular 
song is being shouted from some doorway. Thread- 
ing their way through the throng are instructors 
and professors, with felt bags bulging of text books; 
edging their way past groups of students on the 
steps, w^ho are, perhaps, comparing notes on the 
Cjuestions and answers of a preliminary examination 
of the previous hour. In that ten minutes "at the 
hour" acqtiaintance nods to acquaintance, and 
friend chats with friend ; everybody on the Campus 
is in sight. Between the hours, however, the great 
quadrangle is as silent as a graveyard, and betrays 
no sign of the swarming life the gray walls contain. 
It is positively an eerie feeling that one has when 
the last student disappears, and one paces the walks 
again all alone. 

One can not, however, by this mere enumeration 
of the buildings and cataloging of their contents, 
nor yet by chronicling the activities of under- 
graduate life, arrive at the real charm of the Campus. 
To attain that, one must live on the Campus until 
all the illuminating vistas, the subtle fascination of 

4S 



The Cornell Campus — A Guide Book Chapter 

little corners and points of view are indelibly stamped 
on the mind, so that they are an entity that we can 
carry with us in imagination. For there are days 
when the clouds hang low and all is gray; and 
others when there are fleeting lights and shadows; 
and again days of broad open lights, when snowy 
cumulus banks tower high above the buildings. 

In former years the only approach to the quad- 
rangle was up the length of Central avenue. Now, 
however, part of this traffic is diverted and swings 
up from South avenue over toward Sage College, 
and from thence along a new walk, parallel to Cen- 
tral avenue, to Goldwin Smith and Lincoln Halls, 
and to Sibley College. This highway affords many 




Sllfp Npm Approarli to tl|p Q^ua&ranglp 

49 



At Cornell 

new groupings and glimpses of the buildings; which 
vistas have to Cornellians now the charm of novelty, 
but are soon to become a cherished inheritance, 
and as typical of Cornell as Central avenue views. 
This new walk affords an especially impressive view 
of that great gray sentinel, the Library Tower, on 
guard always over the Campus. At this same view 
point we see, under the green of the trees, the 
gleaming white of the three newer buildings. Board- 
man, Stimson and Goldwin Smith Plalls. 

Morrill, McGraw and White are the oldest of 
the buildings on the Campus; and of these McGraw 
is ivy-mantled, has a tower and massive stone 
steps. The time is late afternoon in early spring; 
the last clouds from a warm shower have just 
passed over, and now the sun, still high in the 
west, makes a reflection of the cerulean blue sky 
and the flowing lines of the elms in the little pools 
which fill the hollows of the old, worn walks. The 
last of the afternoon stragglers are forsaking the 
doorways, wherein they lurked during the rain, and 
wend their way down the hill. It is the idyllic 
time, when breathes the true, free spirit of the 
Cornell Campus, and holds full sway. Would that 
one might live in its enchantment always, for it 
engenders the optimistic glow of youth, and all 
things assume a roseate hue. And even though we 
must now quit its confines, the remembrance of this 
Campus magic will linger long with us; and with 
it the Cornell Spirit itself, — of which it is a part. 

50 



Ip nnh iniun Ol^tttral Au^uu^ 



Up (Xnh i0um (E^ntral Amnm 

^|N every great city there is an artery where its 
J|l hfe pulses the most actively and most visibly. 

In that artery a human tide rises and ebbs 
with the day's coming and going. At Cornell there 
is also such an artery, Central avenue. There too, 
we see the influx and the outflow of a great human 
tide; but its periods do not conform in time to 
those of the city; moreover, there are, during the 
day, many minor rises of the human tide on Central 
avenue. 

The freshman's flrst travels, over its winding 
course, extending from Cascadilla bridge to Sibley 
dome, are initiations into college life. The more 
so because in that first week of the college year, 
the avenue is a scene of feverish activity, for it 
leads to Davy Hoy's office, up in Morrill; and in 
that grim place (over whose door might well be 
posted the legend, "Who enter here, oft leave 
Cornell behind") all tmdergraduate interests of that 
first week focus; concerned as they are, with regis- 
tration, arrangements about entrance conditions and 
petitions. Thus there is at that time a ceaseless 

53 



At Cornell 

travel during the day's length over Central avenue's 
worn pavements. 

Even now it is with anxiety that we measure 
the slope beyond Cascadilla bridge, for the question 
that is uppermost in our minds is: Will Davy let 
us register with conditions? But for the nonce we 
forget our anxiety, as our eyes are caught by the 
huge chalked signs which emblazon the walk at our 
feet. These are the fruits of the painful labor of 
the "ass" manager competitors, toiling in the "wee, 
small hours of the night just passed. The first 
announces the nx+ ' th exhumation of the " Widow ", 
and assures us that that funny ancient is still to 
be had, every issue of the year, for two "simoleons." 
There follows next a bulletin, that he who runs may 
read, informing that: 



FOOTBALL 

First Game of the Season 

HOBART vs. CORNELL 

Percy Field - - - - - - 3 P. M. 

50c 
Season Tickets Good 



By now we are under the long arch of the 
elms which extends from Sage Cottage to the 
Library tower; a vista which has been from " Cornell 
time immemorial" the delight of the kodak fiend. 
One can almost imagine those trees giving us a first 
inspection today; and imagine also, that, as we 

54 




"g'igiiH of lljp iHimfa' 



up and Down Central Avenue 

hurry up and down the hill, under their boughs, 
in later days, they will hold whispered confer- 
ences over us, and adjudge us, whether we are 
worthy; so stately they seem, and so full of per- 
sonality. Through their graceful, sweeping limbs 
one glimpses dimly the gray heights of Library 
tower, and we are of a sudden impressed by the 
something of grandeur and strength which the 
scene embodies, and then, as we would muse on 
in dreams — we find ourselves in the hands of the 
Philistines. 

These are a doughty band of ass-managers, 
who hem off all escape, the while thrusting printed 
forms into our hands with threats of "Subscribe 
for the Sun?" "You can't get along without the 
Sun; all the college news every morning!" We 
subscribe. Then, "Got your season ticket yet?" 
"Don't shortskate; buy a season ticket, good for 
all the games!" We buy, and promise to have a 
' dislikeness ' of ourselves taken by a local photo- 
grapher, to be affixed like a postage stamp to the 
ticket for identification purposes. Then we sub- 
scribe for the Era, the Widow, and even perchance, 
the Alumni News, and breathe more freely, for 
apparently the road is clear. Vain hope, we have 
yet to encounter the Pressing Contract, and the 
Laundry Agency man, and finally, crowning humilia- 
tion of all, out steps a haughty Junior and holds 
before our dazed eyes an " Official Courses of Instruc- 
tion," twenty-five cents, please ! " We eagerly secure 

57 



At Cornell 




Clip iHigljtirat g'uryr nf tljr Ifrar 

a copy of this — to find a few minutes later, oh 
chastening thought, that they are gratis at the 
office. "He saw that we were verdant freshmen;" 
that idea, and not the quarter gone, is what hurts. 
At the noon hour of that first day of the college 
year the avenue is still, for Prexy is delivering his 
annual address in the Armory, reading to us excerpts 
from letters sent by infuriated mamas and papas 
who clamor against the treatment Willie has received 
at the hands of barbarian undergraduates at Cornell. 
Silence. Then we are solemnly forbidden to engage 
in unorganized rushes. Finally some talk about 
ideals — we glow with pride that we too are now 
college men — and then it is over, and there swells 
down the avenue the mio-htiest sur^e of the vear. 



5S 




"Mpptr (Central Aupuup' 



up and Down Central Avenue 

as the crowd comes off the Campus for its mid- 
day meal. 

Other, succeeding days, are more humdrum, but 
not, therefore, less interesting. At half after seven 
in the morning there begin to emerge, from the 
shadowy, subterranean portals of the boarding houses ; 
the great cohort of " studes " with eight o 'clocks; 
and, a little later, at the merry call of the chimes, 
a great black column moves up the hill. There are 
Sibley men with tin dinner pails, looking like mill 
hands; the grind with his armful of books; the 
frosh, with wistful eye, and wrinkled, cheap, gray 
cap; the jaunty senior, and the co-ed — all climb- 
ing, climbing, to the music of those sonorous bells. 
This is the rising tide at its height, and the great 
column, seen from the hilltop, looks like a monstrous 
centipede, advancing tortuously. At one, in the 
afternoon, we have the ebb tide rushing, regardless, 
past "Pinochle" on the bridge, solicitous for old 
clothes. 

The aspect of the avenue is a true index to the 
change of the seasons. In autumn, the late Octolier 
days are marked by the rustle and scurry of the 
falling leaves, as the breezes hurry them across the 
broad lawns. Then come the days of the early 
snowfalls when the trees drip in utter dejection, 
and the avenue is a sea of ooze. But these days 
are soon succeeded by the crisp cold of winter, 
when sharp winds bite cheerfully, and the snow 
packs hard and glassy underfoot. Then one 

61 



At Cornell 

abandons tedious walking for a glorious slide down 
the hill. 

A slender Junior Week girl was gliding daintily 
along, once upon such a time, while behind her 
came a great, husky, six foot "stude," a stranger 
to the girl. The slope at the point of this advance 
is long; faster and faster they go, the man is heavy 
and the force of gravity is working mightily. He 
gains on the maiden; now he has all but overtaken 
her ; he can not stop without a fall (and perhaps at 
the same time upset femininity), so he siezes the 
dilemma by the horns, or more literally, grabs the 
girl about the waist, and, swaying rythmically, 
down the hill they go together, he bawling at inter- 
vals, horrified: "I beg your pardon," and she 
answering, as regularly and politely, over her 
shoulder, "Why certainly," until they reach the 
bottom of the slope and receive the plaudits of the 
crowd; he crimson, she smiling and collected. 

With the approach of spring comes relaxation, 
and the elm trees become veils of gray mist — a part 
of the hazy languor which o'ertakes all organic life 
at this time. Even Jack Moakley's runners, in 
their mud-splashed white suits, seem to abate the 
winter vigor of their sprint from the Tower to the 
Armory. And by the time the summer breezes are 
whispering among the full developed leaves, we say 
goodbye to the avenue until next fall. 



62 




n 



QIampus Malka au& JPatIja 



/y|%NE can not be long on the Cornell Campus and 
yfrt escape the allurement of the many walks and 
paths which open invitingly at almost every 
turn, whenever one forsakes the confines of the 
quadrangle itself. From the early days of Cornell 
history the sylvan retreats which enclose the Campus 
have called for exploration; and hard, beaten paths 
now niark the trails of the first invaders of the 
gorge banks and the hill slopes. 

The two most notable, of the walks which lead 
directly off from the Campus, are Goldwin Smith 
walk and the Forest Home path. 

The former winds along both sides of Cascadilla 
streani; beginning on the east side of the stone 
arch bridge, and plunging at once into the evergreen 
of the tall hemlocks which overshadow stream, 
gorge, and walk completely. So long as he was at 
Cornell, this walk was the favorite retreat of Goldwin 
Smith, the Oxford professor, whom A. D. White 
persuaded to leave England to take a position on 
the faculty of the newly fotmded institution of 
Cornell. 

67 



At Cornell 

The path is bordered on the one side by a hnipid 
stream, hke a meadow brook which has plunged 
into the forest; and on the other looks down into 
the (lark ^or^i^e and the rushing white of the Casca- 
dilla waters, as they lea]), foamflecked, over ledge 
after ledije in their hurrvinir course. At the end of 




(guU'iuiiu ^ittitl; Dalk itt Utittrr 
68 




= .= ^ 



*3 M "" -^ 

« s g 5 
S 5 ^ -^ 



Campus Walks and Paths 

the gorge the moss-covered, picturesque dam of an 
old pond creates a waterfall, ensconced in ferns and 
shrubbery. Here the valley opens out, and the path 
turns where a footbridge crosses to the opposite side 
of the gorge. On the far side, the path again disap- 
pears among the trees, and this time skirts the very 
edge of the cleft, finally emerging into the open once 
more at the foot of East avenue. Not the least of 
the charms of Goldwin Smith walk is its accessibility, 
and the fact that its round can be completed in 
twenty minutes ; it affords the woodland ramble for 
a leisure half hour. 

The path to Forest Home is longer, continuing 




Slyp QIaaraJiiUa ^trpam 

71 



At Cornell 

for about a mile, and leads from the Campus to the 
little village whose name it bears; following along 
the shores of Beebe Lake and the upper gorge of 
Fall creek. It also is overshadow^ed by evergreens, 
hemlocks and pines, with often a great chestnut and 
a clump of oaks or willow^s interspersed. Its aisles 
are an especial delight in the autumn w^hen the 
loose-heaped, crisp, gay-colored leaves from the 
deciduous trees crackle underfoot, and one sees the 
opposite bank of the lake as a riotous mass of red 
and yellow; a great panel of color betw^ixt the 
blue of the sky and its repeated, deeper shade in 
the water. This again is the path which leads to 
the skating house and the toboggan slide; and in 
winter it is merry w^ith the voices of those who 
daily court the exhilaration that only these sports 
can offer. 

At Forest Home the continuation of this path 
follows the open road; but one need only turn to 
the left, and go up the hill for a short distance on 
the branch road, to come upon another path, half 
hidden among the bushes, which offers a way of 
return on the opposite side of the stream. This is 
a wilder passage, and affords here and there the 
prospect of the rushing waters of the gorge, and, 
at the lake's head, a view of the prettiest w^aterfall 
near the Campus. No one can resist the charm of 
this little cascade, with its perfect setting and sur- 
roundings. Continuing, one comes close to the 
lake's edge among picturesque reeds and sedges, 

72 




3fortst i^amt Pall] in Autumn 



Campus Walks and Paths 

which stand erect and slender as though they were 
sentinel guards of the water's expanse. 

At the foot of the last climb in this path, and 
near where it ends on the road, is a side path, leading 
to the head of a stairs which afford a somewhat 
precarious access to the bottom of the gorge below 
Triphammer falls. Recently, money (subscribed by 
Brooklyn alumni) has been expended in constructing 
a number of other paths which lead directly to the 
bottom of the gorge. These start on the south bank, 
and at the end of East avenue. No doubt these 
paths will achieve a wide popularit}^ in the future 
because of the more convenient access they furnish 
to the stream's edge. It is by looking up from the 
bottom of the gorges, that one comes to a best 
appreciation of their scenic beauties and romantic 




®l|f Prpttipat Matfrfall Npar tl|e (Eampua 

75 



At Cornell 



wildness ; feat- 
ures which have 
made the Cornell 
country famous. 
Another quite 
secluded path 
winds down the 
south bank of 
the Fall creek 
gorge, beginning 
across the road 
from Morse Hall, 
and continuing, 
below the lower 
bridge, to a van- 
tage point from 
whence one looks 
down on the 
giant staircase 
of the Ithaca 
falls, some one 
hundred and sixty feet high. Generally, however, 
nuich of the water which should flow over these 
falls is diverted, for power ]3urposes, into the tunnel 
which has been carved through the solid rock 
below us. This tunnel is itself one of the inter- 
esting features of the region to all Cornellians, 
linked as it is with the early activities of the 
Founder. Before his time the water had for 
years been carried in a flume along the clift' wall. 




U»ljp Nurtlj iciiyr uf i^rrlir ICakr 



76 



Cornell Walks and Paths 

to the wheels of the mills below. This flume required 
almost continual and difficult repairing to keep it 
in working order. It remained for Ezra Cornell to 
note that a stratum of sandstone, occurring some 




Jtljara iFalla from Abour 

77 



.4^ Cornell 

six feet above the level of the flume, would furnish 
a strong roof for a tunnel; while the tunnel itself 
could be very readily cut through the friable shales 
below the sandstone. His project was, after some 
opposition, carried out, and the tunnel, still in use 
today, is a monument to the Founder's resource- 
fulness and ability to turn to his purpose the natural 
advantages which the location afforded. One may 
traverse the dark passage of the tunnel by a plank 
walk which bridges the black waters gurgling over 
the tunnel bottom. The decay and crumbling of 
the soft shales on the sides of the passage, have 
removed all traces of its artificial origin; but the 
sandstone roof is still intact, and is as substantial as 
was the financial advantage which Ezra, as tunnel 
constructor, gained by its utilization. 



®l|F iFnunb^r — lEzra fflnnt^U 



(31j^ iFouubrr — fera QlnrnrU 



^j^ZRA CORNELL was born at Westchester 
^r Landing, Westchester Count\', New York, on 
January 11, 1807. 

His father, Elijah Cornell, supported a family 
of eleven children, of whom Ezra was the oldest, by 
pottery making and farming. When Ezra was 
twelve years old the family located permanently 
near the village of DeRuyter, New York. To this 
place, in the far western part of New York State, 
the father was attracted by the fact that an ex- 
tensive neighborhood of "Friends," or Quakers, 
were located there, of which religious faith both 
he and his wife were, and their ancestors had been 
for generations. 

From his parents Ezra inherited a superb con- 
stitution, and from early youth he manifested the 
unusual activity, mental and physical, which lasted 
throughout his life. His aptitude for mechanical 
pursuits was extraordinary. At seventeen he had 
planned, framed and finished a two story house for 
the family, with no instruction, and with only the 
assistance of his brother, and of the astonished 

■ 81 



At Cornell 

neighbors who assisted at the raising — as was then 
customary. 

Made ambitious l)y this success, Ezra left home 
in search of employment as carpenter. Failing to 
secure this kind of work, he spent two years in the 
vicinity of Syracuse in a lumber camp, and then a 
year in a machine shop at Homer. In that year he 
heard that the town of Ithaca, forty miles from 
his home, was thriving, and that its prospects were 
exceedingly bright, owing to the fact that the 
absence of railroads, at that time, made all the 
territory of the southern counties of New York and 
northern Pennsylvania tributary to Ithaca, because of 
its favorable position with respect to water routes. 
Ezra, therefore, after completing his engagement at 
Homer, set out to w\alk to Ithaca from his father's 
farm, taking w^th him only a few dollars and a 
spare suit of clothes. This was in A])ril, 1828. 
Almost immediately on his arrival, he succeeded in 
securing employment as a carpenter. Not many 
weeks later his activities were transferred to the 
cotton mill operated by Mr. Otis Eddy, on what is 
now the site of Cascadilla Place. Here he held a 
position comparable to the modern one of main- 
tenance superintendent; and a year later accepted 
a similar position in the more extensive mills 
owned by Jeremiah S. Beebe, where he remained 
for twelve years, becoming in time the confi- 
dential agent and manager of these interests for 
his employer. 

82 




Slllf Jffouitipr — Ezra (CnrnpU 



The Founder — Ezra Cornell 

This last ]X)siti()n gave him fiiH scope for the 
employment of his mechanical genius, and his 
devices, tending to economical operation, made the 
mills very pros])erous. Characteristic of such im- 
provements was his project of excavating a tunnel 
through the rock of Fall creek gorge, and thus 
obviating the necessity of maintaining the expensive, 
inefficient, and difficultly repaired flume along the 
south side of the gorge wall, which was then the 
means by which the water, used for ])ower, was 
conveyed to the mills. This project was entirely 
successful, Mr. Cornell acting as chief engineer, and 
the tunnel, finished in 1831, is still in use today. 
Some years later he practically insured the con- 
stancy of this power supply by constructing the 
original of the present Beebe lake dam, and so 
creating Beebe lake as a storage reservoir. 

In the second year of his employment under 
Colonel Beebe, Mr. Cornell married Mary Ann Wood, 
whose father had been a favorite pupil of Mr. Cor- 
nell's father, when the latter taught school during 
the winter months of his early residence in DeRuyter. 
It was while on a visit to Mr. Wood's home, with 
his father, that Mr. Cornell met Miss Wood who, 
like Ezra, was one of eleven children. Because of 
this marriage outside the Friend's Society, Mr. 
Cornell, who, up to that time, had been an active 
member of the Quaker Society, was formally excom- 
municated from the sect. Yet he held to their 
tenets faithfully throughout his life, though he 

S5 



At Cornell 

declined to accept the society's invitation to express 
regret for the offense and be reinstated. In the 
summer following their marriage, the couple began 
housekeeping in a dwelling which Mr. Cornell built 
just north of the mills, where they resided for twenty 
years, and their nine children were born, five of 
whom reached maturity. 

In 1841, Colonel Beebe retired from active 
business, and Mr. Cornell was thrown out of employ- 
ment. In this predicament he purchased the patent 
rights, for Maine and Georgia, of a new plow which 
had been invented by his neighbors, Messrs. Barnaby 
and Movers. While in Maine for the purpose of 
selling these rights, he made the acquaintance of 
Frances O. J. Smith, then editor and publisher of 
the Maine Farmer. Cornell's business was not com- 
pleted on the first visit, and a year later, in 1843, 
he made a second visit to complete negotiations. 
Calling on his friend Smith, he found him engaged 
in attempting to explain an idea of his. Smith's, 
to a plow manufacturer, for a machine which was 
to dig a ditch two feet deep, and wide enough to 
lay a telegraph pipe in the ground, and leave the 
excavated earth conveniently near for filling the 
ditch, by means of another machine. Mr. Smith 
had taken the contract for laying the test line of 
Professor Morse's new invention, the telegraph, 
from Washington to Baltimore, with compensation 
at the rate of one hundred dollars per mile of 
pipe laid. 

86 



The Founder — Ezra Cornell 

The plow manufacturer was skeptical of Mr. 
Smith's ideas, and Mr. Cornell's arrival was oppor- 
tune, for Mr. Smith immediately took him into 
confidence. Mr. Cornell's description of what ensued, 
as follows, is taken essentially from a memorandum 
book, in which he later wrote it down: 

"An examination of the pipe to be laid, and 
a little reflection convinced me that he did not 
want two machines, one to excavate and the other 
to fill. I therefore, sketched a rough diagram of 
a machine which provided that the pipe, with 
wires enclosed, be coiled around a drum or reel, 
from whence it was to pass through a hollow 
standard, protected by shives, directly to the rear 
of a coulter or cutter, which was so arranged as 
to cut a furrow two feet deep and one and one- 
fourth inches wide. Arranged something like a 
plow, it was to be drawn by a powerful team, 
and deposit the pipe as it moved along. The 
furrow being so narrow, would soon close itself, 
and conceal the pipe from view." 

At this proposal, Mr. Smith was almost as 
skeptical as the plow man had been, but he 
employed Mr. Cornell to build the machine, and 
indeed became so enthusiastic as it neared com- 
pletion, that he invited Professor Morse to witness 
its trial. This trial was entirely successful, and 
here occurred the first meeting of the two men to 
whom the telegraph business owes its present day 
magnitude. Mr. Cornell's conviction that the 

87 



.4/ Cornell 



telegraph would become a grand enterprise, 
induced him to accept Mr. Smith's proposal that 
he superintend the laying of the pipe from Balti- 
more to Washington. 

The underground pipe proved defective in 
insulation, as was first convincingly demonstrated 




u.l|r (HrrtU nf Jitliara iFallH 
88 



The Founder — Ezra Cornell 

by Mr. Cornell, and on hearing of this, Professor 
Morse became anxious, and coming out to the 
work, asked a word in ]_)rivate with Mr. Cornell, 
and said: "Mr. Cornell, can you not contrive to 
stop this work for a few days so that the papers 
will not know it has been purposely interrupted ? 
I want to make some experiments before any 
more pi])e is laid." Replying to Professor Morse 
that he would comply w^ith his request, Mr. Cornell 
stepped back to the machine and said: "Hurrah, 
boys; whip up your mules, we must lay another 
length of pipe before we (juit for night." The 
plow was started at a lively pace, Mr. Cornell 
grasped the handles, and, watching his oppor- 
tunity, he suddenly canted it over so as to catch 
its blade on a point of rock, breaking the machine 
into a complete wreck. Next morning the papers 
gave a graphic account of the "accident," and 
stated that there would be a delay incident to 
necessary repairs. 

It became apparent that the wires must be 
placed on poles, and here again Mr. Cornell's 
genius devised the insulators to which the wires 
were fastened, after another device was shown to 
be unsatisfactory. 

The Baltimore - Washington line was success- 
fully completed; but with this the introduction of 
the telegraph was hardly begun. Notwithstand- 
ing the fact that its practicability had been proven, 
the public remained disinterested, l)ecause of the 

89 



At Cornell 

belief that the business would not be sufficient in 
quantity to pay operating and installation expenses. 
Mr. Cornell, however, remained firm in his faith, 
and from that time on devoted all his efforts to 
the establishing and operation of telegraph lines 
in different parts of the country. After a struggle, 
which would have disheartened even the hardy, 
against mechanical and scientific mistakes and 
difficulties, bitter and relentless rivalry between 
competing lines on the one hand, and law suits 
over title and possession in other cases — in prose- 
cution of all which business Mr. Cornell suffered 
all kinds of exposure and a painful railroad 
accident; there was finally accomplished by Mr. 
Cornell and those associated with him, the con- 
solidation, in 1855, of all the telegraph interests 
in the Northwestern States, known thereafter as 
the Western Union Telegraph Company, and from 
this time on the prosperity of the telegraph busi- 
ness was assured and the foundations of Mr. Cor- 
nell's fortune laid. 

After the successful establishment of the 
telegraph enterprise, Mr. Cornell turned his atten- 
tion to pursuits which had always held a great 
attraction for him; spending his time in travel 
with his wife, and in the creation of Forest Farm, 
a model country property of three hundred acres 
on what is now the site of Cornell University. 
Here he established extensive orchards and bred 
fine cattle from imported stock, so that the Farm 

90 



The Founder — -Ezra Cornell 

soon enjoyed a great and enviable rej^utation 
throughout the country. 

Mr. Cornell had always been active politi- 
cally, and was greatly interested in public affairs. 
In 1861 he was elected member of the Assembly 
of New^ York State, held this office for two terms, 
and then, in 1865, was elected to the State Senate, 
which office he also held for two terms. While a 
member of this body the founding of Cornell 
University, as is related elsewhere, was accomp- 
lished. 

In that account, credit has been given Mr. 
White for the arduous creative and administrative 
duties he performed. It remains here to tell of 
the business management of the establishing of 
Cornell University, which task fell entirely on 
Mr. Cornell's shoulders, and to the promotion of 




ahr tnli of tbr aumipl 
91 



At Cornell 

which he devoted all his time during the latter 
years of his life. 

The land scrip, which came to New York 
State by the provisions of the Morrill Act, amounted 
to nine million, four hundred and twenty thousand 
acres, to be located in the state to which it was 
alloted, or, if no public lands existed in that state, 
to be sold; as no state could hold land within 
the boundries of another state. There w^ere, at 
that time, no public lands in New^ York State, and, 
as a consequence of this fact and similar conditions 
in other states, the land scrip, nominally worth 
one dollar and twenty -five cents per acre, had fallen 
in value to fifty cents, due to the glutting of the 
market by the various state sales. Mr. Cornell 
realized that if the warrants could be located on 
well selected timber lands in the Western States, a 
much larger sum could be realized. Therefore he 
endeavored to persuade the trustees of the Uni- 
versity to purchase the scrip from the State, and 
themselves locate the lands, offering on his part, 
to advance the necessary funds for this purpose. 
However, the trustees were unwilling to incur the 
additional burden of local taxes and expenses this 
would necessitate, and Mr. Cornell, seeing no other 
course available, to save for the cause the great 
intrinsic value of the grant, offered to purchase 
the scrip at sixty cents, locate the lands at his 
own expense, pay the local taxes, and obligate 
himself to pay into the State treasury, for the 

92 



The Founder — Ezra Cornell 

benefit of Cornell University, the entire profits to 
be realized later from their sale. This offer was 
accepted, and the contract executed in September, 
1866. 

The location of these lands in the pine country 
of Wisconsin, and in farm areas in Minnesota and 
Kansas, was a tremendous task. Into this arduous 
labor Mr. Cornell put all his efforts for eight years, 
finally succumbing, in 1874, to a serious illness 
incurred by overtaxation of his strength in this 
work. As a result of his eft'orts, the University real- 
ized not only the one million, six hundred thousand 
dollars over and above the sixty cent price which 
Mr. Cornell had figured might be obtained, Ijut 
approaching double that amount, practically three 
millions of dollars. 

The unselfishness of these efforts was wdiolly 
beyond the comprehension of a large part of the 
public, and during this time Ezra Cornell was 
libelled and misrepresented, called a land grabber 
and corrupt ionist. These charges became so open 
and bitter that the Le8:islature, in 1873, ordered 
an investigation ; when Mr. Cornell was completely 
cleared and his slanderers effectually silenced. 
One must admit that if the equal of his task were 
undertaken today by some philanthropist, that 
philanthropist would have to undergo the same 
villification. Such disinterested devotion is far 
above the average of human nature, and the world 
can not believe in it until it is compelled. The 

93 



At Cornell 

illness which constrained Mr. Cornell to relinquish 
this work in 1S74, resulted in his death in October 
of that same year, and just a few weeks after the 
commissioners of the Land Office had approved the 
transfer of Mr. Cornell's contract to the University 
trustees, so that the full benefit of his labors, though 
unfinished, accrued to the University. 

Ezra Cornell was six feet tall, somewhat spare 
in figure, rugged of feature, with high cheek bones 
and a prominent forehead. His muscular develop- 
ment was tmique, and his love of activity is evi- 
denced by his devotion to pedestrianism, a form of 
exercise he developed in youth and never relin- 
cjuished. He could, and often did walk forty miles, 
day after day, without effort. In manner he was 
austere and abrupt, though singularly free from 
harshness in his judgements. This manner detracted 
in some sense from his popularity. An anecdote, 
related by President White, is especially illustrative 
in this connection. A student once said to him: 
' ' If Mr. Cornell would simply stand on his pedestal 
as our 'Honored Founder,' and let us hurrah for 
him, that would please us mightily; but when he 
comes into the laboratory, and asks us gruffly: 
'What are you w^asting your time at now?' we don't 
like him so well." The fact, on which the remark 
was based, was that Mr. Cornell liked greatly to 
walk quietly through the laboratories and drafting 
rooms, to note the work. Now and then, when he 
saw a student doing something which especially 

94 



The Founder — Ezra Cornell 

interested him, he was anxious, as he was wont to 
say, "to see what the fellow was made of," and he 
would frequently put some provoking question, 
liking nothing better than to receive a fitting 
answer. 

Another story may be appropos here, as it also 
throws light on Ezra Cornell's character. During 
the Civil war the young women of the village held 
large sewing circles for the purpose of doing work 
for the soldiers. Mr. Cornell was asked to contribute 
to their funds, and, to the great surprise of those 
present, he declined, saying dryly: "Of course 
these women don't really come together to sew for 
the soldiers; they come together to gossip." On 
the young ladies protesting the injustice of this, he 
answered: "If you can prove that I am wrong, I 
will gladly contribute; if you only sew together all 
one afternoon, and no one of you speak a word, I 
will give you a hundred dollars." The society met 
and complete silence reigned. The young men of 
the community, hearing of this, and seeing an 
admirable chance to tease their fair friends, came 
in large numbers to the sewing circle, and tried to 
engage the women in conversation. At first their 
attempts were in vain, but finally a skillfully put 
question evoked a reply from one of the young 
women. This broke the spell. Of course the whole 
assembly was very unhappy; but, when all was told 
to Mr. Cornell, he said: "They shall have their 
hundred dollars, for they have done better than any 

95 



At Cornell 

other women ever did." It must not be understood 
from this that he was cynical toward woniankind. 
His espousal of the cause of co-education, if nothing 
else, would dispel any such opinion. 

His tenacity of purpose was his most distin- 
guishing characteristic. One reads it in all his life, 
and it continued to the day of his death. When 
friends remonstrated with him, and urged him to 
free himself from the cares which beset his last days, 
he declared that he was planning to make "vet 
another million dollars for the University endow- 
ment." Was there ever such another Founder? 




SIjp Appmarli of Nigljt — (CaHrabilla (Sorgr 



96 



OlnrttpU I|t0t0riral ilnt^r^ata 



m 



Olnrtt^U l^tBtnrtral ilnter^stB 



. I HE material for the following pages has been 
I J/ gained almost entirely from President White's 
Autobiography ; a book for which all Cor- 
nellians owe him a profound debt of gratitude — a 
debt altogether distinct from that greater reverence 
which w^e accord him for his services to Cornell. 
To this book we may turn for the story of Cornell's 
fotmding, told with the fullness of personal reminis- 
cence which is so rare; and which for every Cornel- 
lian has, in this case, all the charm of romance. 
In its pages, the great names, which we of a younger 
generation associate in a vague way with the period 
of the University's beginning, become real men and 
women; and thus we are, even at this later date, 
permitted to breathe of, and profit by the enthusiasm 
with which those men and women entered upon the 
heroic task of creating the great University we know 
today. That its ideals and policies were conceived 
in large measure by President White, and that his 
genius, intimately linked with that of Ezra Cornell, 
furnished the new institution with the formative and 
foundation ideas w^hose enduring qualities have 

99 



At Cornell 

insured its continuous growth and development, 
invests the volume with no little added interest. 

Mr. Cornell and Mr. White first met in 1864, 
in the senate at Albany, both men being at the time 
state senators, and both holding the chairmanship 
of important committees in that assembly; Mr. 
Cornell that of Agriculture, and Mr. White that on 
Education. Although ordinarily these committees 
would seldom have common interests, it so happened 
that it was this apparent very separation of activities 
which brought the two men into the most intimate 
relations; for one of the first bills referred to Mr. 
White's committee was one providing for the incor- 
poration of a public librar}^ which Mr. Cornell pro- 
posed to found at Ithaca, his home town. As a 
consequence of this, Mr. White and Mr. Cornell 
became acquainted ; since projects of an educational 
nature, such as embodied in this bill for the incor- 
poration of a public library, had long possessed a 
great interest for Mr. White. And then, a short 
time after, there was referred to their joint commit- 
tees the matter of the disposition of the New York 
State allotment of the Federal Land Grant, accruing 
to the state according to the provisions of a bill 
introduced in the United States Congress by Mr. 
Morrill of Vermont. By the passage of this act, in 
1862, each state of the Union was to receive a certain 
amount of 'land scrip' — claims on the public lands 
of the United States — the proceeds from the sale 
of which were to be devoted to the advancement of 

100 




Aniirrui D. lUljttr 
JFtrat ^rrBibpnt of tl^P Mniuprsitg 



Cornell Historical Inlcrcsis 

iiulustric'il, teclmical and agricultural education in 
that conmumity. 

Over the portion due New York, a great 
controversy had sprung \\\). In a previous session 
the whole grant had been turned over to the Peo]ile's 
College in Schuyler County, under certain conditions; 
conditions which that institution was eventually 
unable to fulfill. At this juncture Mr. Cornell asked 
for half the grant for the Agricultural College of 
New York vState, of which institution he was a 
trustee. Mr. White vigorously o])])oscd such a divis- 
ion of the fund arguing that it should be ke]jt 
intact; and the resulting contention led to the matter 
being referred to the joint committees on Agriculture 
and Education. No agreement as to the dis])osition 
of the grant was reached during that sessi(m; nor 
did Mr. White accede to the pro])osition Mr. Cornell 
made at some time in the following summer, namely, 
that if Mr. White would agree to the division, he, 
Mr. Cornell, would give to the Agricultural College 
a sum equal to that it would secure from the grant, 
some three hundred thousand dollars. Instead Mr. 
White urged the founding of a new institution, 
which should receive the full amount of tlie grant, 
and to this Mr. Cornell should add his three hundred 
thousand dollars. 

In the meantime a number of sectarian institu- 
tions had put in claims for a portion of the grant, 
and it was only after a strenuous fight that a bill, 
embodying Mr. White's ])roposal for a new institu- 



At Cornell 

tion, was finally passed. By the terms of this bill 
Mr. Cornell pledged himself to do even more than 
he had originally planned ; he offered five hundred 
thousand dollars and a site for the new University. 
Moreover, he agreed to contribute twenty-five 
thousand dollars to Genesee College, a rival claimant 
for the land grant scrip, to insure the passing of 
the bill. The legislature in after years realized the 
meanness of its action in compelling Mr. Cornell to 
give this money to the Genesee foundation, and 
voted a restitution of the sum. This Mr. Cornell 
refused to accept, but suggested that he had no 
objection to its being given to Cornell, and 
accordingly Cornell eventually received the money 
which her founder had been made to pay for the 
privilege of being allowed to found his own insti- 
tution. 

While the Ithaca site, near his home town, was 
proposed and given by Mr. Cornell, he himself never 
suggested that the University bear his name, and 
only consented to its use after the precedents of 
Harvard, Yale and others were pointed out. 

With funds and a site secured, and building 
operations begun, there yet remained the real task 
of founding the University; namely, the assembling 
of a faculty, and the obtaining of a complete equip- 
ment including furnishings, books and apparatus, 
for so comprehensive an institution. Shortly after 
the granting of the charter, Mr. White, on Mr. Cor- 
nell's nomination, had been elected President by the 

104 




(gulbuiin g'mtlli 
l^raitBsar of iEnglisl) l^iatorH, EmpritUB 



Cornell Historical Interests 

trustees; and on the first president of the new 
university, now devolved the initiative in this 
enormous task. For such a task Mr. White was 
preeminently fitted, as he had for many years been 
building air castle universities, and his mind had 
thus been long imbued with ideas of what was good 
in the older institutions, and what changes for 
improvement could be made in an institution which 
could be condition and tradition free, as this new 
Cornell now promised to offer. 

Realizing the impossibility, in general, of secur- 
ing the leading professors to accept positions in the 
new school ; and yet feeling the need of their enthu- 
siasm and prestige, he asked their interest and 
confidence for the new institution — asked a number 
to themselves accept non-resident professorships and 
lectureships, and also invited their confidential and 
particular cooperation in securing for Cornell the 
best of the young men they were training, to be 
Cornell's future professors. 

The successful outcome of this plan enabled 
Cornell students to enjoy the privilege of hearing 
Agassiz, Lowell, Curtis, Froude, Freeman and others 
of the contemporary notables in the early days of 
the institution. 

The purchase of books and apparatus occupied 
months of President White's time in Europe; and 
here, again, the University's funds were eked out 
in many cases, by gifts from both Mr. Cornell and 
President White himself. 

107 



At Cornell 

Finally, on September 7, 1868, came the formal 
opening of the University. Mr. Cornell had been in 
the West, placing the land scrip of the grant and 
enduring many hardships; while Mr. White, after 
his return from Europe, had toiled to the utmost 
of his strength to get things in shape for the day. 
The contractors were found behind in their work; 
tons of scientific material had accumulated, while, 
on the other hand, needed material was delayed in 
shipment; and everything needed to be unpacked 
and assorted by men who understood its nature and 
value. Students, moreover, came earlier and in 
greater numbers than had been expected, and in 
consequence of the attendant hurry and worry, 
which all this occasioned, both Mr. Cornell and 
President White were ill on the opening day of the 
University, and had to be taken in carriages to the 
hall where the exercises were held. 

Mr. Cornell, seated in a chair, read his address 
in a low tone; his physical condition being such as 
to forbid his speaking, standing. In his closing 
remarks he said: "We have not invited you to see 
a university finished, but to see one begun;" and 
thus gave an answer which should endure for all 
critics who, on opening days, cavil because the walls 
of a new institution are not yet ivy-covered. Presi- 
dent White then followed with a speech outlining 
the plan of organization, and alluded to Mr. Cornell's 
efforts in behalf of the new university. The reaction 
of these efforts on the man was so plainly evidenced 

108 



Cornell Historical Interests 

by his physical condition that, with a proper under- 
standing of the reason for it, the audience was 
greatly affected. 

These addresses were given in the morning, 
and downtown in Ithaca. Exercises were held on 
the Campus in the afternoon. Of these the notable 
feature was the speech by George William Curtis. 
Mr. Curtis ended his speech with a peroration which 



Tlii.v GanuiU 't1utuicr*ii|f 



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STrom tifp iFirat CEarttpU g'tutrt iSook 

109 



At Cornell 

splendidly awoke in all those present that same 
enthusiasm for C(n-ncll which had swayed, absolutely, 
the activity of its founder and first president during 
the past years. 

Mr. Curtis compared the new University to a 
newly launched ship — "all its sails set, its rigging 
full and complete from stem to stern, its crew 
embarked, its passengers on board; and," he added, 
"even while I speak to you, even while the autumn 
sun sets in the west, the ship begins to glide over 
the waves, it goes forth rejoicing, every stitch of 
canvas spread, all its colors flying, its bells ringing, 
its heartstrings beating with hope and joy, and I 
say, 'God bless the ship, God bless the builder, God 
bless the chosen captain, God bless the crew, and, 
gentlemen undergraduates, may God bless all the 
passengers!'" Then in the midst of the cheering 
there burst forth for the first time, and right merrily, 
the chimes; Miss Jennie McGraw's gift of sentiment 
to the new University. What a moment that must 
have been, what a glorious time — felt even more 
strongly now, as we look back upon that first day 
from the present, in its achievement, and embody 
those opening scenes in the light of oiu- imagination! 

From that time on, date student days. These 
were indeed strenuous in the beginning of things, 
and this was due in part to the announcement of Mr. 
Cornell, always in sympathy with needy and meritor- 
ious young men, that such could support themselves 
by working one-half day, while ])ursuing their studies 

no 




Ij^tesiitnt Sarah C6niili» g>rl}Mrman 



Cornell Historical Interests 

in the University during the other lialf. Many 
came in response to this offer; some who were 
skilled mechanics were profitably employed; but it 
was found in the case of many, that it was 
cheaper to support them at the hotels and employ 
day laborers than to keep them at work. Where 
Barnes Hall and Sage College now stand was then 
a corn field, and typical of this student labor, says 
President White, was the husking of corn by the 
students; the husking was found to cost more than 
the resultant corn could be sold for in the market! 
Again, Mr. Cornell's expression: "I would found an 
institution where any person can find instruction in 
any study" (which was adopted as the University 
motto), brought many applicants who insisted that 
they be taught reading and writing! 

From the first, in accordance with President 
White's ideas, the students were treated as responsi- 
ble citizens, and the members of the faculty relieved 
of policemen's duties. This did not cover all cases, 
however, and one, where faculty discipline had to 
be invoked, has a humor which the President's 
account makes irresistable. 

"Various complaints had been made against a 
stalwart New Englander, somewhat above the usual 
student age, and finally he was summoned before 
the faculty for a very singular breach of good taste, 
if not of honesty. The culprit stood solemnly before 
the entire instructing body, gathered about the long 
table in the faculty room. Various questions were 

" 113 



At Cornell 

asked him which he parried with great ingenuity. 
At last one was asked of a very pecuhar sort, as 

follows: "Mr. — , did you, last month, in the 

village of Dundee, Yates County, pass yourself off 

as Professor , of this University, announcing 

a lecture and delivering it in his name?" He 
answered blandly: "Sir, I did go to Dundee, in 
Yates County; I did deliver a lecture there; I did 

not announce myself as Professor of Cornell 

University; what others may have done I do not 
know; all I know is that at the close of my lecture, 
several leading men of the town came forward and 
said that they had heard a good many lectures given 
by college professors, from all parts of the State, 
and that the}^ had never had one as good as mine." 
I think of all the strains upon my risible faculties, 
during my life, this answer provoked the greatest, 
and the remainder of the faculty were clearly in the 
same condition. I dismissed the youth at once, and 
hardly was he outside the door when a burst of 
titanic laughter shook the court, and the youth was 
troubled no more." 

The lecture system, developed now perhaps too 
generally, was typical of Cornell instruction from 
the first; and that at a time when other institu- 
tions commonly gave instruction by recitation from 
books, "weary plodding and gerund grinding." The 
lecture system in its ideal phase makes it incumbent 
upon the eminent professor who holds the chair, to 
give of his best, brightest, original thoughts directly 

114 




l^vaUBsar of Engltalr, lEmpntua 



Cornell Uistorical Interests 

to the student aiulience. In the other system, the 
weary grind of the Ixxik recitati(^n destroyed all the 
natural enthusiasm which the teacher possessed for 
his subject, and, as a result, he had hardly a word 
of comment to add to the text. Thus all the inspira- 
tion which should come from a University instructor 
was lost. Therefore, a mighty impulse was given 
the young Cornell by the lectures of the non-resident 
professors, as for example, the twenty delivered by 
Agassiz, who declared that the region about Cornell 
afforded the finest field laboratory for all branches 
of natural science of which he had knowledge. 

Again, the elective system, which also has its 
widest scope at Cornell, had its inception in the idea 
that, regardless of the disciplinary value which the 
study may have for the general student, those 
students who love it ought not be held back by 
perhaps a majority in a class, who dislike it. 

The college man of today has practically over- 
come the prejudice which, in the past, his purely 
theoretical training aroused among practical men. 
Especially was this prejudice felt in the case of the 
engineer. It was a need therefore, of manual train- 
ing, which led Mr. Hiram Sibley, Ezra Cornell's 
associate in the telegra])h enterprise, to build and 
equip a college of mechanic arts, the beginning of 
the Sibley College of today; and today certainly one 
of the most successful departments of its kind in 
the world. In 187G, an exhibit was made at the 
Centennial Exhil)ition, of work done by Sibley 

117 



At Cornell 

students, including a steam engine and power lathes; 
but Sibley College of Cornell, had to await a later 
time for the recognition which the excellence of this 
exhibit merited. For, as President White says, the 
New England authorities paid no especial attention 
to it, her wise men being prevented from recognizing 
that any good could come from the Nazareth of 
western New York. In Cornell too, in connection 
with Sibley, was established the first department of 
electrical engineering that the world has known. 

From the very outset of the University's organ- 
ization the word man was avoided in all documents 
where the student was mentioned, and the term 
'person' substituted. This was done deliberately, 
with the thought in mind of, in time, admitting 
women. Probably encouraged by this, a young 
woman in the second year of the University's career 
applied for, and was granted admission, but was 
compelled, later in the winter, to give up her college 
work because the difficulty and toil involved in 
climbing up the slope from her lodgings in town 
was too great for her strength. This incident led 
to the proposal, founding and endowing by Mr. 
Henry Sage of Sage College, as a dormitory for 
women students, and quarters for the Botanical 
department, which was then felt to be a science in 
which women had an especial interest and possessed 
a special aptitude. 

Today, two general ideas are felt to underlie 
the opposition of the male students of the University 

118 



Cornell Historical Interests 




to co-education. The first is tliat the presence of 
the women affects unfavorably the prestige of the 
school among college men of the older schools in 
the east, where the women are segregated in separate 
colleges. The second, which, while somewhat divert- 
ing, appears none the less, is that many of the men 
have sweethearts at home or in women's colleges, 
who twit them about the co-eds. On the other 
hand, both Mr. Cornell and Mr. White favored the 
idea, and it, of all others, had the approval of Mr. 
White's mother. The faculty is reported as finding, 
'that it tends to lessen disorder and roughness in 
classroom and campus and to promote neatness 
among the students of both sexes.' Some opposition 
to the presence of the women comes from the 



119 



At Cornell 

faculty, however, when themes tabooed in society 
must be discussed freely in the classroom, and, at 
an early date, from the fear that it would lead to 
much "spooning," or as the Cornellian of today has 
it, of "fussing." This has hardly been the case; 
on the other hand, such attachments as have resulted, 
indicate a possibility which is much more character- 
istic of western schools, where social lines are not 
so artifically marked. This possibility is a function 
which may, perhaps, belong more properly, in 
general, to the churches of a community, but which, 
until now, the division of creeds has made difficult. 
It is to promote an acquaintance among young 
people of moderate circumstances outside of the 
often narrow circle of the family, or single church 
associations, in which they have been brought up. 
That such accjuaintances are often fostered by other 
social opportunities as, for example, the semi-public 
dances of various fraternal associations, is true, but 
these are often of an unfortunate character, and 
thus the contact of the sexes, the meeting of young 
men and women of character and intelligence, though 
perhaps in moderate circumstances, from widely 
different sections of the country, may not be regarded 
altogether as a calamity, but rather as an alleviator 
of a social poverty which tends to the formation of 
class and caste. 

This broadening influence is felt even more 
strongly in the establishment of Sage Chapel, which 
was closely connected with the founding of Sage 

120 



Cornell Historical Interests 

College, for with the building of Sage Chapel, came 
the founding of an unsectarian pulpit. Whether as 
a result of the early policy of choosing the promising 
young graduates of the recognized masters in any 
field, for places in the Cornell faculty, instead of 
attempting to induce the masters to come perman- 
ently themselves; whether this is the reason or no, 
certain it is that we have at Cornell, teachers and 
workers, rather than the world's torch bearers. 
And yet the partial departure from this plan, in 
endowing an unsectarian preachership, and inviting, 
on succeeding Sundays, the leading divines of all 
denominations, to fill the pulpit, called forth the 
most adverse criticism. The religious belief of the 
public, no matter how varied, stands unified in 



^■0. 



At Cornell 

opposition to aii}' proposal which tends to put 
Christianity above all creeds, in the same manner 
that Goldwin Smith thinks of Humanity above all 
nations. Nevertheless, the plan has proven most 
successful, and the inspiration which comes from 
listening to some of the world's greatest religious 
teachers, is a factor large in the future of Cornellians 
who throng the Chapel at each service. 

The building of the present Library was the 
final outcome of the "Great Will Case," which con- 
test will be remembered always as a tempestuous 
and dramatic time in the history of Cornell. Miss 
Jennie McGraw, whose gift of the Chimes, at the 
time of the opening of the University, has been 
mentioned, later married a Cornell professor, Willard 
Fiske. Her married life was very happy, but her 
death, occurring before the second anniversary of 
her wedding, made it very brief. On opening her 
will, it was found that, after making ample provision 
for those near and dear to her, she had left nearly 
two million dollars to Cornell, of which by far the 
greater part was to be used for a University Library. 
Into this purpose her husband entered heartily at 
first, but following on the discovery that the limita- 
tions as to the amount of its endowment, embodied 
in the University's charter, would not admit the 
acceptance of the gift, there came difficulties also, 
between Professor Fiske and the members of the 
trustee board, and a reconcilement proved impossi- 
ble. Although the University contested through the 

122 



Cornell Historical Interests 

Supreme Court, the setting aside of the will, the 
decisions were all adverse. Afterwards the charter 
was amended so that the University now has full 
power to accept such gifts, and the future growth 
and standing of Cornell will depend, almost entirely, 
on an increasing of her endowment by gifts and 
bequests from loyal alumni and benefactors. 

In recent years, at the death of Professor Fiske, 
more than a half million dollars of this money came 
to the University as an endowment for the Library, 
but at the time, all seemed lost. But at that time, 
Henry W. Sage came forward with a gift of six hun- 
dred thousand dollars, one-half of which was for a 
library building, and the other half for an endow- 
ment; and with this sum the Library was built and 
many of its volumes have been purchased. There- 
fore, the inscription, on bronze, in the doorway: 

" SItjp gnnli aljp With \a ha aljall alaitii ag if 'tmttt ftonr ; 
(&ah fimaljpB ll|p tnnrk by itnblp anula brgun." 



123 



®I|p Iffiakp-iirOlraiu manainn 
mh ti\t Olljt fax Ifin 



m 



mh llj0 QII)t fat Jto 

. I HE burning of the old McGraw-Fiske mansion, 
11 and its attendant tragedy, must forever 
remain memorable in the annals of Cornell. 
For years the mansion had been celebrated for its 
beauty and its commanding position, and when it 
was destroyed by fire on the seventh of December, 
in 1906, the calamity was marked by a tragedy so 
appalling, and deeds of heroism so bright, that 
those who witnessed the fire, or know the story, 
can never quite separate the feeling of pain and 
sorrow which the memory of the event evokes, 
from the feeling of joy and pride of the Cornell men 
who there showed the mettle of heroes. 

All the history of the mansion was eventful. 
It was originally built for Mrs. Jennie McGraw-Fiske, 
wife of Professor Willard Fiske. Mrs. Fiske was 
Miss Jennie McGraw, the donor of the original 
Cornell Chimes, and, at the time when the building 
was started, in 1879, was traveling abroad and left 
the plans for the mansion almost entirely in the 
hands of the architect, Mr. William H. Miller, of 

127 



At Cornell 

Ithaca. After her marriage, Mrs. Fiske returned to 
this country, but died in Ithaca, in 1881, before she 
was able to occupy the house. Thus from the time 
of its completion until 1896 the building remained 
untenanted. On the death of Mrs. Fiske, the prop- 
erty came under the supervision of the McGraw 
estate, who bought it in at auction. In 1896 it was 
sold to Mr. E. G. Wyckoff, w^ho, in the same year, 
disposed of it to the Chi Psi fraternity; and it was 
occupied by the chapter from that time on until its 
destruction by fire. 

Although the mansion cost the fraternity only 
fifty thousand dollars, the approximate valuation of 
the structure and the site was in the neighbor- 
hood of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. 
The mansion had for its model a famous French 
chateau near Blois, and was constructed of Indiana 
limestone and yellow brick. Upon the walls of its 
large foyer were medallions, set by the most skillful 
mosaic w^orkers of Rome and Venice — men brought 
to this country for the purpose. This central foyer 
extended to the height of two stories, and the 
sleeping apartments were distributed around an 
ornate balcony that gave access to them. A circular 
tower, with an apex of slate-covered steel, gave a 
decidedly medieval aspect to the structure. Inside 
it was not less noteworthy. Its beautiful woodwork 
and the designs of the fixtures were imported from 
Europe. The decoration of the library and hall 
attracted especial attention. Here w^as wood- 

128 



The Fiske-McGraw Mansion and the Chi Psi Fire 

work imported from Italy, and fitted together by 
the best cabinet-makers that could be found in this 
country. 

The Fiske-McGraw mansion occupied an ideal 
site. Town, lake and hillside ; and a sky unbounded, 
except in the east, were in the wide panorama which 
its windows commanded. To it many classes of 
Cornellians have led their visiting friends; and to 
native Ithaca the mansion was always a wonder- 
place, and it had long become a landmark. Then, 
on December seventh, 1906, in the early morn- 
ing hours, the historic mansion flashed into flames; 
and had crumbled into ruins before even a glint of 
the dawn showed in the east. 

It was icy cold and black dark that December 
night. The wind blew a gale whose velocity was 
forty miles an hour. Fitful snow-flurries, blinding 
while they lasted, came at intervals. No warning 
of the impending disaster had come to the inmates 
of the doomed mansion w^hen they retired at mid- 
night. But even then, perhaps, the flames were 
creeping out unseen, and, not long after, must have 
been blazing freely in the lower part of the building; 
their ominous crackle drowned in the roar of the 
storm raging outside. No one was abroad at that 
hour, leastways in such a storm; no one saw the 
flames as they spread from room to room, below, 
and from floor to floor, above, and so through the 
fated mansion. Then only, and at almost the same in- 
stant, most of the sleepers awoke, and there began 

131 



At Cornell 

the series of encounters with Death, which, whether 
they ended in victory or defeat, were all marked by 
a calm heroism beautiful in its unanimity. 

The first alarm was telephoned downtown by a 
professor's wife, whose residence was across the gorge 
on Cornell Heights, and who was aroused b}^ the 
screams of the students who had escaped to the roof 
of the burning building. At that time, forty minutes 
past three, the mansion was already enveloped in 
flames. But it was an hour later before a stream of 
water had been directed at the flames, due to a 
confusion in giving alarms, such as must often be 
attendant in a volunteer fire department on the 
occasion of a crisis. In the meantime the cries had 
also awakened the men in other fraternity houses 
nearby, and thus, long before the arrival of the fire 
department, the drama of escape and death had 
been enacted. Before any of the men were awakened, 
all egress by the stairways had been cut off. 

Twenty-six members of the fraternity were 
asleep in the building. There were no rope fire- 
escapes, so that the only hope of rescue lay in getting 
out on a window sill, and from there to the ground; 
or else climbing to the roof, and either climbing or 
jumping from it. The sleeping rooms were, in every 
case, filled with snioke when the men awoke; in 
some the flames were already gaining entrance; 
there was no time to secure any clothing. 

Grelle, Pope, Uihlein and DeCamp first climbed 
to the roof. Their cries gave the alarm. On the 

132 



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The Fiske-McGraw Mansion and the Chi Psi Fire 

roof they separated. DeCamp and Uihlein escaped 
by climbing down the vines along the outside wall 
for some distance, and then jumping to the ground. 
Pope and Grelle determined to try other means of 
escape. Pope led the way and they reached a place 
on the roof directly over the window of McCutcheon's 
room. Here Pope swung over and down, and kicked 
in the window. Immediately the flames shot out 
and enveloped him. He let go his hold and fell to 
the ground. Then, recovering, he ran across the 
lawns to the Phi Kappa Psi house, about two hun- 
dred yards away, and aroused its occupants by his 
screams. Almost crazed by the pain of his burns, 
he collapsed as soon as the doors were opened. He 
was taken to the hospital later, and, although his 
life was despaired of for days, he eventually 
recovered. 

It is impossible to tell the events of those 
minutes coherently and connectedly, because they 
occurred simultaneously. While Pope and Grelle 
were climbing over the roof toward McCutcheon's 
rooms, McCutcheon himself was being rescued by 
his room-mate, Curry. Curry awoke to find the 
room filled with a dense smoke. Half unconscious, 
he broke out upon a balcony through a window, and 
after being revived there by the fresh air, returned 
to McCutcheon, who was unconscious. He attempted 
to carry McCutcheon out, but failed, and barely 
succeeded in reaching the balcony again. Once more 
he tried, and this time managed to drag McCutcheon, 

135 



At Cornell 

whose night clothes were now in flames, to the 
window. Here he found himself exhausted by his 
efforts, and could not take the body to the balcony. 
But help had arrived. Halliday, Gibson and Good- 
speed, men from the Alpha Delta Phi house, who 
had also been aroused by the cries of the men on 
the roof, had brought two ladders with them, and, 
climbing from these over the snow-covered slating, 
they secured McCutcheon at the window, and carried 
him to the ground. His burns were, however, fatal; 
he died in the afternoon of the same day, after only 
a few minutes of consciousness. Curry, after McCut- 
cheon's rescue, reentered the house for a third time, 
in a vain effort to find Nichols and Grelle, but, 
baffled by the flames and smoke, was compelled to 
give up, and, covered with cuts and burns, had to 
be assisted to the Infirmary. 

We return now to Grelle, who was left behind 
on the roof after Pope had fallen to the ground. 
The flames from the window which Pope had kicked 
in, swept toward the roof and Grelle stepped back 
to escape their heat, only to fall into a skylight, 
from whence he dropped into a closet near McCut- 
cheon 's room. He was seen to come into the room 
from which Curry and McCutcheon had been rescued, 
and make for a window. Just as he reached it, the 
floor gave way and he disappeared from view. 
Death had claimed two victims. 

Six freshmen. String, Matchner, Lamb, Matthai, 
and two Williams boys, brothers, slept in one large 

136 



The Fiske-McGraw Mansion and the Chi Psi Fire 

room on the third floor. They got out through a 
window, and crept for twenty feet along a three- 
inch ledge, about sixty feet from the ground. After 
successive jumps to a balcon}^ and from thence to 
a porch roof, they finally dropped safely to the 
ground. 

O. L. Schmuck, a senior, had made his way to 
the gutter of the upper roof, through a gable window, 
when he remembered that his room-mate, W. H. 
Nichols, also a senior, was yet in the house. With 
the greatest fortitvide, he reentered the room, then 
a mass of flames, to save him. The task was hope- 
less, and with clothing in flames, Schmuck regained 
the window and dove through it to the ground, three 
stories below. His fall was broken by a bush, but 
he received injuries which caused his death in the 
Infirmary a few hours afterward. "He died indeed, 
but his work lives, very truly lives." 

Requardt was another of those who gained the 
roof. From thence he jumped, and landed astride, 
on a gable ten feet below, injuring himself so pain- 
fully as to become all but unconscious. While he 
clung there, he heard a scream and turned just in 
time to see Schmuck dive through the window and 
fall to the ground. Then he leaped himself and 
put out the flames which were enveloping Schmuck's 
body. 

Bamberger and Turner were in a room on the 
second floor, directly under that of McCutcheon. 
They aroused Pew, who was in the next room, and 

137 



At Cornell 

he joined them. With a rope made of bedclothes, 
Bamberger lowered Pew and Turner to the ground, 
and then slid down himself. Andrews and Goetz 
made a rope of sheets which reached halfway from 
the third stor}' to the ground. Andrews descended 
first, and the rope gave way when he reached the 
second story. Goetz's only recourse was to jump, 
which he did, escaping with some severe muscular 
strains. 

But the roll of death was not yet complete. 
The furious north wind, unabated, fanned the flames 
so that no amount of water could quench them. 
Only ruined walls, on the exterior, and a flaming 
mass inside, remained at six o'clock. At seven, 
most of the flremen and spectators had left the 
scene. But at that time three firemen were still 
directing a stream through a window on the north 
side of the ruin, when, without warning, the massive 
stone wall fell outwards, directly in the face of the 
wind, and crushed the three, Messrs. Rumsey, 
Robinson and Landon. Seven had now given up 
their lives and Death was appeased. 

Such, in brief, is the story of the Chi Psi fire. 
It seems as though one should add some comment 
on this story of extraordinary rescue and escape; 
and death most heroic. Yet, what can one say? 
The deeds speak for themselves more adequately 
than any phrase. Today another structure occupies 
the site of the historic mansion, but the memory 
of the latter, its tragic end, and of the actors in that 

138 



The Fiske-McGraw Mansion and the Chi Psi Fire 

drama, can not be effaced. "The pride of the deed 
will remain after the bitterness of grief has passed, 
and every man with the stamp of Cornell upon him, 
will stand straighter at the thought: They had 
tasted the flames, but they went back. They went 
hack.'' 



139 



lEartlj 1l|t0lnrg of ttj^ OlcrnrU Qlnuntrg 



lEartli llftBlnrg nf ttf^ Qlnrn^U Qlnuntrg 

^iN BAEDEKER'S guide book for the United 
Jll States, one reads that: "The romantic gorges, 

near Ithaca, contain, perhaps, a greater number 
of pretty waterfalls and cascades, than can be found 
in any equal area elsewhere." Coming from Baede- 
ker, this is "praise from Sir Hubert." As regards 
this region again. Professor Tarr, Cornell's physio- 
grapher, is certainly no lesser authority than Baede- 
ker, and he also has written: "Waterfalls and 
gorges in Europe, which can not be compared, in 
beauty or interest, with a score of glens in the Finger 
Lake region, are far better known to the traveling 
American than Watkins Glen." Thus as a prophet 
is not without honor, except in his own country, so, 
in some degree, it is the case with the natural fea- 
tures of the region about Cornell. 

There can be no doubt but that this is due in 
part, as is lack of appreciation of many natural 
features of great interest, to the want of knowledge, 
on part of the general public, as to their significance; 
how they came to be so, and how they are changing. 
And while, as yet, no man can read all the book of 

143 



At Cornell 

Nature with understanding, still some leaves, even 
chapters, have been quite accurately deciphered, and 
he who would enjoy his out-of-doors to its extent, 
should needs have an intelligent comprehension of 
these pages. Again, there are phenomena, as 
Niagara, which are so grand that they command 
the attention, and, if such a thing is possible, the 
tribute of wonder from mankind. Yet, on a second 
visit, even Niagara palls, unless the first has roused 
the latent 'why' of human curiosity: The query, 
how comes there here, a waterfall so tremendous, 
without parallel in other great streams? If this be 
true of the world-wonder, Niagara, one can readily 
appreciate why more unobtrusive, though perhaps 
tenfold more interesting natural features should fail 
to attain their due. There follows, therefore, in 
these pages an attempt to put before the reader 
the story of the hills, the valleys, the streams and 
the lakes of Central New York, which, fascinating 
in themselves, are many times more so, once their 
historic relations are known. If the story is inade- 
quately told, or flags in its interest at places, the 
fault is with the writer — and he craves your indulg- 
ence. 

As with the history of the human race, so also 
here, the earliest, and which indeed includes the 
major portion of the story, measured b}' duration 
of time, is the most imperfect, and lacking of details. 

We know that in the days when life on the 
earth was young (mind, I say, when life was young, 

144 



Earth History of the Cornell Country 

and not when the earth was young) ; in those days 
much of the interior portion of North America was 
occupied by a great shallow sea. There was land 
to the north, where now are the Highlands of Canada; 
what we now term the Adirondacks, was land; and 
a range of mountains, the prototypes of the Appala- 
chians, raised their summits to the east of the 
present ridges. In the far west, there were also 
other areas projecting above the surface of the sea; 
none of the present mountains, however, for they 
are much more recent. In many places, the great 
Interior Paleozoic Sea (as the ancient sea is known 
to geologists), was connected by arms and embay- 
ments with the deep oceans, so that it was all salt. 

The rains fell then, as now, and we are inclined 
to believe, with about the same intensity, but in 
this we may be wrong; day and night made alter- 
nate heat and cold, as did also the succession of 
seasons. By these agents the rocks of the exposed 
lands were broken down — the rain dissolving some 
of the minerals of which they were composed, and 
enlarging the microscopic cracks existing in their 
structure, cracks which the unequal expansion of 
the various minerals, with alternate heatings and 
coolings, had perhaps started. In some regions, no 
doubt, frost lent its great force to still farther rend 
and crumble the rock. 

The material so loosened, was carried away by 
the streams, the little rain-rills bringing it to the 
greater courses. That which the rain had dissolved, 

145 



At Cornell 

various coninKni salts, for the most part, was 
carried along invisibly, while the insoluble particles 
were carried along in suspension, or rolled along the 
bottom; their method of transportation depending 
on their size and on the velocity of the transporting 
stream. From the little streams to the big streams 
the material was constantly carried, but ever onward, 
tnitil eventualh' it all found its way into the great 
Interior Paleozoic Sea; or, if the stream flowed 
outwards, into the surrounding oceans. But in 
either case, at the still water, the currents of the 
streams were checked, no longer was there any force 
to hurry the turbid sediments onward, and so they 
settled down quietly on the sea bottom. 

Not all in one confused mass, however, but with 
a definite arrangement. When the flow of the 
streams was first checked, on mingling with the 
quiet waters, the coarsest materials were naturally 
the first to be deposited, whereas the sand could be 
carried a little further, and the clay particles quite 
far out, by the decreasing current. The material in 
solution, on the other hand, w^as mixed quite thor- 
oughly with the sea waters, and was then extracted 
from these, perhaps far from the shore, by little 
shell fish and corals, who used it in building their 
casings and stems; and, when these creatures died, 
their hard structures also found their way to the 
bottom. Thus, from the shoreline to the greater 
depths, the deposits were successively, gravel, sand, 
clay, and then limy and flinty organic remains. 

146 



Earth History of tJie Cornell Country 




®I)p Work of iFr0at in SpBtroying Sork — S>ix M\U (ttrrrk 

For long ages, certainly during all Silurian and 
Devonian time, comprising, without doubt, millions 
of years, these lands were being worn down, and the 
major portion of their matter poured into, and 
literally rained down on this interior sea bottom. 
This sea, we have said, was shallow, therefore, in 
order to accommodate all this material, its bottom 
sunk about as fast as the material piled up. 

But you ask: "How do we know all this? 
Who found it out, and when?" An answer to the 
last question would be long, and its interest, though 
great, has no place here. The first, however, admits 
itself, nor is it so difficult as it might seem. But 
let us continue a little farther with the facts, and 



147 



At Cornell 

then come back to the evidence which proves 
their truth. 

Whatever inequaHties may have existed on the 
sea-bottom were soon filled up, since the slim}^ 
clays naturally slumped off and slid down wherever 
they w^ere deposited on elevations, and thus, after 
a geologically short time, the material was being 
deposited in layers or strata on a level surface. In 
varying seasons, and at different periods, the 
deposits varied in character, and again the rate of 
the bottom's sinking was not uniform. Thus the 
strata, as they were superimposed, one on the other, 
were differentiated; and perchance a layer of clay 
was succeeded by a layer of sand. The layers 
were piled up until accumulations thousands of feet 
thick had been formed. The lowest layers being 
under the greatest pressure, became indurated and 
consolidated into stone ; conglomerates being formed 
from the gravel, sandstones from the sand, shales 
from the clays, while by resolution and cementation, 
the organic deposits were changed to limestone, and 
in rarer instances, to flints. 

At the end of Carboniferous or Coal Time, 
which succeeded the Devonian, or, perhaps, even 
earlier in the Carboniferous Period, a new movement 
of the earth's crust made itself apparent, and the 
bottom of the Paleozoic Sea, which had all along 
been accommodatingly sinking to receive the sedi- 
ments which the streams from the surrounding 
mountains and lands were pouring into it, began to 

148 



Earth History of the Cornell Country 

rebel, as it were, and instead of sinking, began to 
slowly wrinkle up in the east, thrusting the shore 
line sediments high into the air in distinct parallel 
folds, and bending, in the process, the solid rock as 
though it were plastic. Thus were formed our 
present Appalachian ridges. Farther away from 
the shore, the upward movement was not so intense, 
but the force applied was more nearly vertical, and 
so the layers around Ithaca were thrust upward 
intact, and in their original horizontal position. I 
say intact, but that does not mean the}^ escaped all 
change, for there were some strains and twist ings 
developed in this elevation of so great a mass, and 
these had the effect of causing the rock to break 
up into a countless number of square prisms, or 
blocks, with planes at right angles to each other, 
separating them. These planes are known as joint 
planes, and their influence on the subsequent changes 
was very potent as shall be seen. 

We have now traced the origin of the rocks on 
which the Ithaca and Cornell of today are founded, 
from their formation in the sea, to their uplift into 
dry land. But that was by no means the end. As 
soon as the first mud-layer appeared above the 
water's surface, the forces of weathering and erosion, 
the rain, the heat and cold, the expanding force of 
the frost, the transporting power of the streams, all 
attacked the new land; and, just as they had in 
the past ages worn down the mountains and built 
them into these sediment layers beneath the sea, so 

149 



At Cornell 

now, with equal alacrit3% they entered upon the task 
of redistributing this material once more over 
another sea bottom. Although limited in extent, 
very shallow areas of sea still existed for a time near 
by; yet from this period on, the land waste was 
carried far from Central New York, and most of it 
was probably transported westward to the lower 
Mississippi river region, where the sea remained 
for a long time after the uplift. 

Naturally the agents of denudation were, at first, 
able to work very rapidly on the new land, for the 
upper layers were probably composed of unconsoli- 
dated muds and sands, and in such material valleys 
could be carved rapidly, and the fragments easily 
removed. Nevertheless, the forces of the interior 
earth, the terrestial forces, gained the ascendency 
over the extra terrestial forces; and so, in time, 
the region of the Finger Lakes was lifted up to the 
dignity of a plateau; at least two thousand feet 
above the level of the sea. But although the elevat- 
ing forces gained the victory, it was not w^ithout 
losses, for the plateau was not unbroken, but in the 
contest had been gashed by deep and wide valleys, 
through which the waters from the rains and the 
snows found their way to the sea. 

Now^ we may pause for a moment in this rela- 
tion, and answer the question propounded in a 
previous paragraph: How do we know all this? 
Well, the streams, by cutting these deep valleys, 
have unsealed the rock book in which the chapters 

150 



M, 




•■^*js^r. 



;<5-; 



- _' •■«^. 









A iFoHHtUfprnua Slork-iFragmfttt from tljp Ifii Sork 
lIithprlHing \\\t (Enntrll (CamjiuH 



Earth History of the Cornell Country 

of this region's history are written, and the pages 
have been found legible. 

We postulated, at the beginning, that there 
were land areas to the north and east, the wearing 
dow^n of whose rocks had furnished the material for 
the sedimentary rock layers of the present plateau. 
This we know to be true because in every case it 
is found, that, although the layers are in some 
instances, disturbed from their original sequence by 
doubling w^hen folded, the order of the rocks is: 
first and lowest, the crystalline igneous rocks of the 
early land areas; and on these, in successive layers, 
the conglomerates, sandstones, shales, and lime- 
stones formed in the Paleozoic Sea. The earh^ rocks 
are very different from these latter, being of the 
granite type, formed from a molten magma, and 
cooled very slowly, so that the various substances 
which had been melted together had time to crystal- 
lize out (just as salt and sugar will separate when a 
solution of the two is slowly evaporated), and thus 
we can readily distinguish these igneous rocks from 
the sedimentary strata later deposited upon them. 

That the streams carried the material to the 
shallow Paleozoic Sea we know to be true, because 
they are doing the same things today. No one can 
doubt the reality of the denudation of the land who 
has seen the spongy earth in the spring, when the 
frost comes out of the ground, and the particles its 
expansive force has separated, are left uncompacted; 
or who has observed the muddy, sediment-laden 

153 



At Cornell 

waters of a spring flood. That the rain fell in those 
early days, as it does now, is shown by the rain 
prints that the drops made in the soft ooze along 
the shoreline of the ancient sea, which are preserved 
for us now in the hardened mud, by being buried 
later under hundreds of feet of other sediments, 
and solidified by percolating cement solutions, and 
the pressure resulting from the superincumbent 
masses. 

The presence of these rain prints is itself one 
evidence that the Paleozoic Sea was shallow, and 
that its shoreline was constantly changing, as its bot- 
tom was depressed or raised. Other evidence of its 
shallowness is the presence of ripple marks in the 
solid sandstones, and again, the material of wdiich 
the alternating layers are composed. For in this 
region the rocks are mostly sandstones and shales, 
that is, collections of sand and clay particles; 
material which could not have been carried far from 
shore, because, as the velocity of streams is almost 
immediately checked when they empty into still 
water, and they are thus robbed of their transporting 
power, they must, perforce, drop these coarser por- 
tions of their loads. Again the movement of the 
ocean bottom, though subject to minor fluctuations, 
must have been in general one of depression, else 
how could these hundreds, even thousands of feet of 
thickness of shallow water sediments have been piled 
in layers, one above the other, without an apparent 
break? That the rate of depression was not uniform, 

154 



Earth History of the Cornell Country 

is abundantly shown by the fact that the layers are 
alternately shale, then sandstone; or perhaps, when 
a marked sinking occurred, and only organic remains 
could accumulate, the shore line being distant, a 
layer of limestone was laid down, and we see it now, 
mixed with the others. 

All this last we may see when we examine the 
rock walls of the valleys, where the streams have 
cut through the layers. That the streanis did cut 
through layers which were once continuous and 
unbroken, can be easily determined by observing 
first the elevation of some conspicuous, readily 
recognized layer on one side of the valle}^ and then 
crossing to the opposite side, and noting whether 
the same layer occurs there also, and at the same 
elevation. 

You are no doubt willing to admit the reason- 
ableness of all this, but you recall a statement about 
the millions of years that had elapsed while these 
rocks were formed. True, the very thickness of the 
strata is some proof that the 3^ could not have been 
laid down in a few years, yet to assign millions of 
years to their accumulation on that account seems 
unnecessary. Good enough, but there is another 
and a weightier reason. 

We began this history with a sentence wherein 
was the phrase: "in the days when life was young" 
on the earth, the first of these sedimentary layers 
were deposited in the great Interior Paleozoic sea. 
That is the clue. For the various strata have each 

155 



At Cornell 

fossils, traces of plant and animal life, shells, and 
casts of them, imprints of leaves and stems, molds 
of whole animals. And, as one goes from the older 
strata to the higher, later ones, the species of these 
organisms show always a more highly organized 
type, more specialized parts to fit them to compete 
more successfully in the struggle for existence which 
was then, as it is now, the condition for all life. In 
the early, igneous, crystalline rocks, no remains of 
life are found; in the lowest, sedimentary layers, 
it is of a very low type. The earliest types are no 
doubt lost to us, as they were probably very ele- 
mentary,, consisting simply of a single cell, or aggre- 
gation of cells, without any protective, or binding, 
hard parts, and, in the piling up of later masses, 
any remains of this sort would be literally crushed 
beyond recognition. It was only when the organ- 
isms had developed so far as to have hard, protective 
shells, that the remains become clearly defined and 
abundant; and it is these already somewhat 
advanced types that we find in the lowest strata 
from which we can trace the life development w^ith 
accuracy. Then, as we go upward from horizon to 
horizon, we find that these organisms change, the 
different species of a genus becoming more and more 
sharply defined, or again, a whole genus will flourish, 
and come to a maximum point in regard to abund- 
ance and development; and then decline, and 
finally become extinct. Again at later periods, 
altogether new forms appear, as the fishes, which 

156 



Earth History of the Cornell Country 




S'omt 3Fo0aila from lift 2Sorka Arnuni (Enntpll 

in the youth of their existence had hard, bony 
coverings, and only later developed scales. Some 
types again have maintained a continuous life chain 
through all the ages, and modern representatives of 
their classes are to be found in our seas. 

But when one thinks of the length of time 
which must have been required for life to develop 



157 



At Cornell 

from the lowest shellfish type to the highly specialized 
forms which already existed at the time when the 
bottom of the Interior Paleozoic sea was uplifted; 
one can readily conceive that the years must be 
numbered by the million for this evolution to take 
place. If, on the other hand, one conceives that 
evolution may have worked more swiftly at that 
time, one is confronted with the fact that the remains 
which are today being buried in the same manner, 
will leave a record, in every way similar to that of 
these'early accumulations, and why then, apply any 
different interpretation? 

This brings us to another time consideration. 
Since the uplift of the strata, the streams have cut 
deep valleys into them ; the hilltops themselves have 
been worn down; around Ithaca only a few reach 
the elevation of two thousand feet, and, while at 
one time all the plateau must have reached this 
elevation, the average height of the land is now 
only eight to nine hundred feet above sea level. 
This will indicate something of the enormous amount 
of material that has been returned to the sea. True, 
there has been another important and very capable 
agent assisting in this wearing down, the story of 
which yet remains to be told; nevertheless, by far 
the greater amount of this degrading has been done 
by the streams. How long were they at work? 
The best answer we can find to this is the estimate 
(based on an actual computation of the amount 
transported), that the Mississippi river removes 

158 



Earth History of the Cornell Country 

sufficient material in one year to lower the surface 
of its entire drainage area, one three hundredth of 
an inch; or, in other words, it would require three 
thousand five hundred years to lower it one foot. 
Of course we can not apply any such unit to measure 
the absolute amount of time it has taken to carve 
out these valleys about Ithaca, but it does afford 
some basis for a relative comparison. 

Beyond showing, by this digression, that there 
was a very secure reason for assigning millions of 
years as a time period for the scope of our history 
up to this point, we have also brought into relief the 
great time interval, great, even geologically speak- 
ing, which intervened between the uplifting of the 
plateau from the ocean, and the next great epoch 
in the history of the region — the advance of the 
Continental glacier. 

The cause of this frigid visitation is an unsolved 
problem. It seems that no one simple condition is 
adequate, or if so, that condition, as for example, a 
change of climate, is as difficult to account for as the 
existence of the glacier. Suffice then to say that for 
a long period of time, the snow-fall over that part of 
North America which we know as the Labrador pen- 
insula, was each year far in excess of the amount 
melted dtiring the warm season. Thus, an ice-cap 
accumulated there; practically a mountain of ice. 
Now ice, though from a scientific standpoint it is 
as much a rock as is quartz, possesses however, 
under pressure, at ordinary temperatures, a qual- 

159 



At Cornell 

ity similar to plasticity. Therefore, when the ice- 
cap had grown so that it covered all Labrador 
with a solid mass, thousands of feet thick, the layers 
at the bottom were unable to stand the pressure, 
and a viscous-like flow started at the edges, as 
these moved out from beneath the load. Although 
it is held by some scientists that the flow of the ice 
was not truly viscous, yet we may cite, as an 
analagous case, the flow of thick molasses when 
poured out upon a level surface; as it exhibits the 
same heaping up at the center, and a circular outflow 
at the edges, as did the ice on a larger scale. That 
this was the nature of the movement, and that 
Labrador was the center for that part of the mass 
which invaded New York state, we know, for all of 
northern Canada, to the pole, was not glaciated, 
as is popularly thought; moreover, the scratches, 
which the ice made in the bedrock over which it 
passed, all radiate thus from a center in Labrador. 

As the ice moved southward from Labrador, 
it did not gently cover the land, but, on the con- 
trary, its action was most destructive. We have 
no reason to believe that the climate of New York 
was much different then than now, in fact, in Alaska, 
at the present time, green trees flourish within a 
hundred yards of a glacier's front; so we may 
imagine the great ice cliff of the Continental glacier 
ruthlessly engulfing the green land. Nor was this 
all. As it moved along, it gathered up the loose 
rock fragments it encountered ; others it broke loose 

160 



Earth History of the Cornell Country 




A CSlarial Maidbtr Sppoaitpfi nrar (SornpU bg life (Cntittwrrtal 
^lartpr. S'ifams (Slarial grratrliPH 

from projecting spurs, and all these were eventually 
imbedded in its base; those which originally fell on 
its surface, as it passed by mountain slopes, tumbling 
through crevasses until they reached the bottom of 
the moving flood of ice. Furnished with such tools, 
and moving forward always, urged by the resistless 
pressure from behind, the glacier literally scoured 
the land over which it passed, scraping off first the 
soil, and then graving and grinding the rock beneath. 
We have no means of estimating how long this 
continued, but one thing we do know, and that is, 
that the erosion which it accomplished was pro- 
digous. Even today we find the bed rock polished, 
striated, and grooved, where the ice passed over it. 
In the north and south valleys the ice was 
deepest, and moved with the greatest velocity, but 

161 



At Cornell 

its mass was sufficient to cover the highest hills, 
as is shown by the presence on their summits of 
foreign rock fragments, granites, sandstones, and 
quartzites; rocks which only outcrop far to the 
north. Again, its mass formed a mighty dam which 
prevented the north flowing streams from reaching 
their natural outlets, and thus ponded back their 
waters until lakes were created, whose levels rose 
until they overflowed the southern divides. This 
lake condition was a feature both of the advance 
and the retreat of the ice. To the water which 
filled these lakes, the glacier, moreover, contributed 
tons of sediment, the debris of the land destruction 
to the north, and also the water of its own constant 
melting. Sediment-laden floods poured over the 
southern divides, and spread the rock flour of the 
glacier's grinding in a great sheet over the land to 
the south. Eventually, however, just after it had 
crossed over the north Pennsylvania line, the pro- 
gress of the ice was checked, for here its melting 
became so active that the forward movement was 
only sufficient to keep up an equilibrium, and enable 
the ice to maintain the southerly position it had 
already attained. 

But after a time a change in conditions took 
place, and the glacier did not receive the reinforce- 
ments from the north, which were a necessity, if it 
was to hold its own, so that it gradually gave way, 
receding to the north. Perchance it subsequently 
advanced again, but that is a technical point 

162 




A giuggpstioit of lljp Cnnhitinna in IGakp (Taguga at aljp (LloBe 
of ll|p (Slartal pprtn& 



Earth History of the Cornell Country 

which is still in dispute. Sufficient it is for us to 
know that its retreat was not a continuous, uniform 
one, but of a character marked by many minor halts 
and meltings, varying in rate. Moreover, this 
retreat w^as a passive one, no actual movement of 
the mass, as the advance had been, but simply a 
shrinking, due to the transformation of its solid 
cliffs of ice into water. Thus each halt was the time 
of an equilibrium between the rate of melting and 
the existing forward thrust of the ice; and its place 
was marked by the dumping there of all the material 
which the ice mass had transported so far. Thus 
veritable hills of debris were built up, the "terminal 
and recessional moraines" of the physiographer, 
which seem tremendously large to us now, but which 
in reality are small in proportion to the glacier 
which accumulated the material. 

As the southern divides of the preglacial drain- 
age were passed, there existed once more the ice- 
dammed lake stage; for as soon as they were 
released from the glacier's icy clutch, the waters of 
the streams again purled merrily northward. Not 
always in their old courses, however, as we shall see. 
Finally all the ice had melted away, and the country 
was once more clothed in vegetation, but its topo- 
graphy had been remarkably altered. 

We have noted above that the deepest ice, and 
the most rapid movement of the glacier, was along 
the axes of the north and south valleys. Where 
the ice flood overtopped a ridge, and poured into 

165 



At Cornell 

an east and west depression, the action was to fill 
it with a wedge of ice, and then the succeeding 
movement was over a plain, formed by this icefiUing 
between the two banks of the valley. Not so in 
the case of the north and south valleys. There the 
ice literally gouged out the bottom with its powerful 
tools, and as a result of this, we have the tremen- 
dously deep lakes of the Finger Lake region of 
Central New York, with their bottoms often below 
sea level; and of these, our Lake Cayuga is one. 

The east and west tributaries of the preglacial 
Cayuga river (for in the valley of Cayuga lake a 
river flowed in preglacial time ; the present lake basin 
being the result, in part, of the gouging out of the 




i|pre Jfall (Hmk ffirawrs its (Dlfi HaUpij to Cut a Sork (Sorgp 

166 



Earth History of the Cornell Country 

river's valley bottom, by the ice, and in part by 
the piling up of a moraine dam at its northern end) , 
were left practically unaltered as to the level of 
their valley bottoms, but found themselves con- 
fronted with a tumble of some four hundred feet, 
when they reached the main valley, into which they 
had formerly entered at grade. This, in a sentence, 
explains the origin of a large number of the many 
waterfalls and gorges which make the Finger Lake 
region famous. 

There was another effect due to the ice filling 
being deeper in the valleys than on the hilltops, 
and this affected both the north and south, and the 
east and west valleys, and in this way: In the 
valleys, the ice lingered longest, and also deposited 
the greatest amount of morainic material. As a 
consequence, the former stream courses were, in 
many cases, choked with glacial drift, and this was 
apt to be highest in the center of the old valley. 
Then the streams, recommencing their flow, were 
backed up until they reached the level of the lowest 
point in the dam, where they rebegan their flow, 
but very often across the banks of their former 
channels. Cutting down in such new courses very 
soon brought them to bed rock, into which they then 
rapidly cut narrow canyons, and this was the origin 
of those gorges which are not the result of the 
tumble of the tributary streams into the Cayuga 
valley. The gorge above Beebe lake, on Fall creek, is 
a notable example of this kind of cutting. When, 

167 



At Cornell 




ill)p iSoUiug iHnratnf l^illa in tljp Jnlrt UaUry 

after thus cutting across its former banks in a rock 
gorge, a stream once more encountered its drift-filled 
valley, it swept out this loose material and thus 
formed a broad, shallow trough, locally known as 
an amphitheatre, of which the site of Beebe lake is 
an illustration. Six Mile creek has a series of rock 
gorges and amphitheatres alternating, in one of 
which latter a big reservoir for the city water supply 
has been created, by damming the narrow gorge 
below it. 

The succession of level terraces, one above the 
other, and with steep fronts, composed of loose 
gravels, which are the site of Cornell Heights, and 
which have a counterpart at the mouth of Coy glen, 
across the valley (a counterpart which can be seen 
in its entirety from the Campus) , are a record of the 
different levels of the lake during the ponding up 



168 



Earth History of the Cornell Country 

of the waters while the ice was receding. They are, 
in a word, deltas of the streams tributary to the 
Cayuga valley, deltas composed of the gravels which 
these streams brought down and dumped into the 
still waters of the lake; each level terrace marking 
the altitude of a new, lower outlet of the lake, to 
the north, as the ice receded. Similar deltas are 
being formed in the lake today; in fact, the flats, 
on which the major part of Ithaca is built, are 
of this origin. As one goes beyond the level area 
of these flats, up the Inlet valley, one encounters roll- 
ing, irregular hills, the typical moraine filling in the 
valleys. 

Today the country is much the same as the 
glacier left it. Verdure has clothed the erst barren 
moraine piles, the streams have cut gorges in the 
rocks, but in the main features of the topogra- 
phy no great changes have occurred. The bed 
rocks have not yet crumbled enough for weather- 
ing to efface the glacial scratches, and the foreign 
boulders brought by the glacier are still as smooth 
and polished as when they were the tools of 
the ice giant. It has been, geologically speaking, 
only yesterday that the ice retreat occurred, and, 
who knows, perhaps tomorrow, geologically, we may 
have another advance. However this may be, you 
must agree, that, although the manner of the telling 
of this earth story may be tedious, its interest is 
intense, and its plot well worth the knowing; if one 
w^ould wander afield in the region of Cornell. 

169 



®l|^ WnttvB of Olaguga 



®Ij^ Waters nf QIaguga 

^fTHE BLUE expanse of Cayuga, stretching away 
m to the northward, is an everyday eye-feast to 
the CornelHan. It greets him each morning, as 
he chmbs the Campus slope, and even in the class- 
room, as work grows irksome and he looks up and 
out the western window, its flashing color-enchant- 
ment entices him to forsake the weary grind and 
come ride on its waves. Indeed, even in winter the 
spell continues, for when the hills are frosty white, 
and so pure in their cold garb that they repel, the 
lake below suggests w^armth and invitation. 

Nor, having yielded to its lure, is the reality 
disappointing. The little waves flash in the light 
and lap-lap, ever against the sides of your boat; 
while overhead the clouds tumble across the whole 
heavens in one tumultuous pageant, making a multi- 
tude of shadows to flit across the waters and the 
field and forest checkered hills. Crowning the 
southeastern summits of these hills one sees the 
University, with the gray outlines of her stone 
structures sharply etched against the sky, like so 
many citadels. Aye, that is certainly an environ- 

173 



At Cornell 

ment which spells inspiration; one that arouses big 
thoughts and ambitions. 

One must become versed in the lore of the lake, 
however, to enjoy all its many phases. For it has 
an interest which goes beyond its outward beauty; 
an interest having a starting point so early as the 
reason for its existence, and continuing in its hunian 
associations, connected first with the Indian domi- 
nation, then with the romantic period of early 
settlement, and extending even to the commerce 
and civilization of today. 

Cayuga, and Seneca next westward, are the 
tw^o largest of the Finger lakes of Central New York, 
and ten would perhaps number those whose size is 
appreciable. The parallel arrangement of these 




Sljp Siunitllunua Paivaut of CClouJia 

174 



The Waters of Cayuga 

lakes, and their long, narrow and straight extension, 
uniformly north and south, early attracted atten- 
tion; the forms of the larger ones, like an extended 
finger, suggesting the comparison which has given 
a name to the group. 

It is natural that one should ask why these 
lakes exist and what is the meaning of their peculiar 
arrangement. And even greater curiosity is aroused 
when one learns that their bottoms are below sea 
level, and hears the stories of the "lake guns" and 
their mysterious thundering. And these questions 
have been answered, in part, quite satisfactorily. 

To understand fully, one must go back to the 
beginning of things, when the solid rocks, which 
now form the foundations of the region, were being 
strewn as fine sediments, by streams coming from 
the north and east, over the bottom of a shallow 
sea, which occupied the region. 

In the earliest period of which we have a record 
at Ithaca, this sea had a connection, probably to 
the south, with the open ocea'n, but this connection 
was so narrow and shallow that there could have 
been no active circulation between the waters of 
the ocean and the sea, and only as the interior sea 
waters evaporated did more ocean water enter. 
But evaporation could not remove the salt which 
the water held in solution, and, as a consequence, 
when once it became saturated, the salt was pre- 
cipitated, and fell to the bottom to form the thick 
salt layers which are now found two thousand feet 

175 



At Cornell 

below Ithaca. These layers of rock salt are nearly 
pure, and there can not, therefore, have been much 
sediment brought in by streams at this time; more- 
over, if there had been many streams, their waters 
would have sweetened and freshened the sea waters 
sufficiently to prevent precipitation of the salt. It 
is logical, then, to conclude that the climate of that 
period for this region was arid, so that little water 
found its way from the land into the sea. 

But this condition, though of long duration, for 
there are layers of solid salt, two hundred and fifty- 
eight feet in thickness, underlying Ithaca, eventually 
changed; a more humid climate followed, and, at 
the same time, the bottom of the inland sea began 
a slow subsidence, the rate of which seems to have 
kept pace very nearly with the rate at which the 
enlarged streams now supplied sediment and spread 
this sediment in layers over the bottom. This pro- 
cess continued with slight variations, until more 
than two thousand five hundred feet in thickness 
(the depth from the level of the Cornell campus to 
the salt), of shales, sandstones and limestones had 
accumulated. Indeed, probably as much as two 
thousand feet more were laid down and are now 
removed, but of this we can not be sure. 

However, the period of deposit and sinking of 
the sea bottom was followed by its opposite, a time 
of uplift and wearing down. The accumulated 
horizontal strata, all over the Central New York- 
region, and far to the west, were slowly thrust 

176 



The Waters of Cayuga 




ffiaypr nfttr iCaypr nf ?Sork Emprgpa from tljp llatrr 

Upward, so that what had formerly been a sea 
bottom, became, in time, a great plateau. To the 
north, however, the uplift started earlier, or perhaps, 
continued longer, for the rock beds in general have 
a gentle inclination to the south. Thus, as one 
paddles northward along the western shore of Cayuga 
one can see layer after layer of rock emerge from 
the water, each older than the last. There is a fas- 
cination in following this succession of strata, for 
it is like going backward down the halls of time, 
perhaps millions of years, through the ages when 
these rocks were formed. In the time which has 
intervened, pressure and heat, and mineral 
cements have hardened and consolidated the 
loose sediments, and made of the animal remains 



177 



.4^ Cornell 

entombed in them, fossils as hard as the rocks 
themselves. 

As soon as the strata were lifted above sea 
level, the rains fell on them, and, in consequence, 
streams flowed over them, and, after a long period 
of cutting, a drainage system, probably sloping to 
the north, developed. The streams carved out 
valleys in the strata, and thus were formed the 
parallel valleys of the Finger lakes, for these seem 
to have been the trunk valleys to which the east 
and west streams were tributary. 

But it is manifestly impossible for flowing water 
to cut its channels deeper than the level of the 
ocean into which it empties. Yet that is the condi- 
tion in the Finger lake valleys today. To account 
for this deepening, one must look then for another 
cause. As a matter of fact, the streams at the end 
of their cutting, had bottoms at least seven hundred 
feet above sea level, while now they are, in places, 
fifty feet below. What has removed the intervening 
seven hundred and fifty feet of solid rock, and 
removed it only from the north and south valleys, 
leaving the east and west tributaries with bottoms 
which, even today, are eight hundred feet above 
the sea? 

The answer is found in the results of another 
climatic change, whose conditions brought about 
the great Ice Age of Continental Glaciation over 
almost the whole of the northern hemisphere. In 
eastern North America this climatic change caused 

178 



The Waters of Cayuga 

the accumulation of mountains of ice in Labrador, 
which grew to such a bulk that they could not 
sustain their ow^n mass, and so spread out at the 
edges and started a great ice sheet flowing in all 
directions, from their center, engulfing the land to 
the south and east like a great tidal wave. At first 
this ice-flood was not deep enough to cover the hill 
summits, so that when it came from the level 
Ontario plain into the Finger lake region, its advance 
tongues were crow^ded into the comparatively nar- 
row north and south valleys. 

It is hard to conceive of ice as being in any 
sense a plastic mass, it seems so brittle, but once 
you imagine this, you can readily perceive what a 
terrific grinding agent such a mass, pushed irresisti- 
bly up the drainage slope of the country, must have 
been. It picked up the loose fragments of rocks 
which it encountered, and used them as tools to 
scour the underlying strata ; projecting and isolated 
masses it tore off bodily. Then, when it was crowded 
into the valleys of the upland region, all its force 
was localized and centralized, and its movement 
through the valleys might be likened to the forcing 
of water through a nozzle. Thus, literally squeezed 
betw^een the hills, its velocity was tremendously 
increased and its erosive power in even greater 
proportion. Moreover, as it was moving upstream, 
its digging w^as greatest along the bottom of the 
valleys, and thus it rapidly (as compared to the w^ork 
of water streams), cut the deep Finger lake valleys 

179 



At Cornell 

we know today, of which Cayuga is the type. Event- 
ually the ice covered all the hilltops, its depth must 
have been over tw^o thousand feet, but during all 
this time the north and south valleys were the main 
channels of movement, and in these highways the 
greatest erosive force of the ice expended itself 
throughout glacial time. Moreover, the tributary 
valleys were protected somewhat, perhaps, by the 
fact that the ice filling them acted as a wedge, whose 
upper surface afforded a gliding plane, over which 
the succeeding flow moved southward, and thus 
these east-west valleys remain practically unchanged, 
while the north and south valleys are so tremend- 
ously overdeepened along their axes. The nature of 
this overdeepening accounts at once, also, for the 
abrupt change of slope which the Cayuga valley 




Etift uf a llallry (Slarirr 

180 



The Waters of Cayuga 

shows at the level of eight hundred feet above the 
sea ; above that elevation the slope is gentle ; below 
it descends abruptly, and almost cliff-like, to the 
lake bottom. 

But the story of the lake's basin is not complete 
with the history of the gouging out of the valleys. 
For, as the glacial period came to a close, the south- 
ward motion of the great mass became ever less 
active, and the melting at its front progressed more 
rapidly. Thus the great sheet wasted away north- 
ward, not at a uniform rate, but by spurts Where 
it halted for a time, because of a sort of equilibrium 
betw^een the forces which still pushed feebly from 
the north, and the ravages on its mass which were 
made by melting; there accumulated great heaps 
of the debris which the ice always enclosed in its 
mass, and dragged along at its bottom; debris 
heaps called moraines. During a period when the 
agencies of ablation prevailed, and the front was 
melted back steadily, there was left behind only a 
nearly uniform sheet of this debris, the till sheet of 
all the glaciated areas. 

These alternate stands and. retreats of the ice 
front have a particular significance when they 
occurred after the ice lobes had melted back to the 
north side of the Susquehanna-Ontario divide. For 
as soon as this point was passed, the north flowing 
streams were again free to flow — as far as the 
glacier front — where their waters were ponded by 
the great dam which the ice-sheet stretched from 

181 



At Cornell 

east to west across the country. Thus small lakes 
were formed, one at the head of each of the north- 
sloping valleys. As the glacier took stands ever 
farther to the north, these lakes coalesced, forming 
broader and broader sheets of water, so that at one 
time the water from the Ithaca region outflowed 
from this glacial dammed lake and reached the sea 
through the Hudson river. This stage existed when 
the ice had uncovered the Mohawk river divide and 
the outflow was over it, and then the waters were 
greatest in expanse. After that. Lake Ontario w^as 
freed from ice and the present drainage was 
established. 

Each new outflow meant, necessarily, a lower 
level for the ponded waters. And the records of 
these varying levels of Cayuga remain today in the 
shape of deltas which the tributary streams, such as 
Fall creek and Coy Glen Stream, formed in these 
higher level lakes with the sediment load they car- 
ried. Thus Cornell Heights are built on the succes- 
sive delta terraces of Fall creek, while opposite, on 
the western side of the Cayuga valley, one can count, 
at Coy Glen, four distinct flat-topped, delta terraces 
of that stream, each marking a different level of the 
glacial lake. These deltas contain the coarse mater- 
ial which the streams brought down, the fine clay 
was distributed widely over the whole lake bottom, 
and is now found spread over all the slopes. Ice- 
bergs broke off from the glacier front and floated 
out into the lake, carrying angular, glacially- 



The Waters of Cayuga 




JTljp "^toitp (Slants" aa Jjltrturrft btj an Jroqitnia Artist 

scratched boulders, which melted out and were 
dropped far from shore in the midst of the fine 
clay deposits forming on the bottom. 

There remains one more point in this glacial 
story, as it relates to Cayuga. When the retreat of 
the ice had been accomplished, to what is now the 
outlet of the lake, a long halt occurred, and a great 
moraine accumulated. This forms the dam which 
keeps Ca3^uga at its present level. It does not 
account for all its depth however, for the maximum 
of this is due to the fact that the gouging of the 
glacier was unequal, and greatest near the southern 
end of the lake, where the depth is four hundred 
and twenty-five feet. The east and west tributaries 
of the former Cayuga stream, whose valleys the ice 
did not erode so deeph% now pour their waters into 
the lake valley in the numerous waterfalls which 
make its slopes so picturesque. 



183 



At Cornell 

It is a disputed question whether man existed 
in North America during, or at the close of the 
glacial time. That must have been at least five 
thousand years ago. Certainly no records or relics 
have been found in the Cayuga region which indicate 
his presence. Only with the coming of historic 
times can we once more find a legible page of the 
Cayuga story. Then the Iroquois Indians, of the 
Six Nations, dwelt in the region. Of these, the 
Cayugan tribe dwelt on the east side of the lake, 
while the »Senecas had their villages on the other. 
From the myths of the loves and wars of these proud 
redmen, we have the pretty legend of the origin of 
Frontenac island. 

In the early days there dwelt, in a village on 
the east side of the lake, near the modern Union 
Springs, a Cayuga chieftain, w^ho loved, and was 
loved by a Seneca maiden, whose home was situated 
at a point on the lake nearly opposite. Their 
courtship had begun in days when the tribes were 
friendly, but after that time the Cayugas and 
Senecas had become bitter enemies, and the lovers 
were denied their former meetings. This state of 
affairs had continued some months, and the breach 
betw^een the tribes grew, it seemed, ever greater. 
Becoming impatient of a tribal peace, the Cayuga 
chieftain resolved to act for himself. 

On the west bank of the lake, to the north, 
was situated the Seneca village Ganoga, on the site 
of the modern Canoga. Toward it the Cayugan 

184 




iHna»liijl|t mi (EuQuga Siakr 



The Waters of Cayuga 

chieftain dispatched, one morning, two of his great 
war canoes, loaded with braves, who had orders to 
proceed as if intent on attacking the town. Im- 
mediately, on noting these, the warriors of the girl's 
family and relatives, hurried northward along the 
shore, to give assistance to the threatened Ganogans, 
precisely as the Cayugan chieftain, now embarked 
in a light canoe and paddling directly across the 
lake, with might and main, had anticipated. The 
maiden, on her part, had early discovered the soli- 
tary canoeman; had discerned his identity, and was 
in waiting when his canoe grated on the shore. A 
joyful, instant's greeting, and in the next moment 
they were off for the Cayugan shore. 

Then, when the lovers were but a little ways 
out, the northw^ard-hurrying Senecas again perceived 
the small canoe ; which had made them apprehensive 
by its course, even when occupied only by a lone 
paddler. Now, with a double load, they divined the 
ruse, and, with cries of rage, hurried back and 
launched their war canoe in pursuit. Thus began 
a stern chase, in which the pursued, from the start, 
lost advantage. Although the maiden lent heroic 
aid, she had not the strength, and her lover was 
already tired from his previous trip; thus they two 
could not cope with the fresh and furious braves 
who impelled the pursuing craft with swift and 
terrible strokes. 

By now they were nearing the eastern shore, but 
the distance between the elopers and their pursuers 

187 



At Cornell 

had narrowed, so that the former, not daring to 
stop to look back, could yet hear the rush of the 
water against the prow of the avengers' canoe. 
Once ashore, on the eastern side, and they were 
safe, for the Senecas would not dare land on Cayugan 
territory in such small force, but all chance of reach- 
ing this seemed lost. 

Then suddenly came a mighty roar, and a great 
ring wave carried the lovers, with a rush, high up 
on the beach, while its opposite hurled back the 
pursuers, almost to their destruction; and behold, 
in the space between there arose the rock sides of 
Frontenac island. The Great Spirit, who looks with 
favor on all lovers, had interceded, and had raised 
this island from the lake bottoni to save the chieftain 
and his sweetheart. But that was not the only 
outcome. For the Indians perceived this manifes- 
tation with great awe, and their medicine men 
declared that it signified the Great Spirit's dis- 
pleasure at the enmity of the tribes. Therefore a 
council was convened and peace declared between 
the Cayugas and Senecas. 

With the completion of the Erie canal in 1825, 
Cayuga lake first loomed large in the annals of the 
white settlers of Central New York. Its presence 
meant to them that Ithaca, at its southern end, 
should become a future metropolis. For all the 
region of southern New York and northern Pennsyl- 
vania contributed its produce for shipment, over 
the lake waters, to the lake's northern end, where 



The Waters of Cayuga 

a branch canal connected it with the Erie highway. 
And indeed those were busy days for Ithaca. Later 
a railroad was built from Ithaca over the Ontario- 
Susquehanna divide, a few miles south of Ithaca, 
to the Susquehanna's shores, whence shipments 
could once more be transported eastward by water. 
Here, then, was an eastward outlet also, for fast 
travel from the west. Wheat, and coal from Penn- 
sylvania fields, were the early heavy freight in 
the region, as they remain today, but no more do 
the shipments go over Cayuga's waves, for the rail- 
roads have eliminated that route. But as the Inlet 
at Ithaca is now being deepened, and a deep water 
canal connection at the northern end of the lake, 
between it and the new Erie barge canal, is promised, 
transportation and commercial activities will, no 
doubt, in some measure again enliven this route in 
the near future. 

Today the shores of Cayuga lake are dotted 
with summer cottages and hotels, and it has become 
the summer pleasure retreat of all those who reside 
in the cities located on or near its confines; and, 
indeed, it attracts many visitors from the larger 
cities of the east. For the lake acts as a gigantic 
balance wheel to the climate of its basin, moderating 
its otherwise oft recurring extremes. Thus on hot 
days there is always a cool breeze from the lake, 
to take the place of the light heated air which 
rises from the land, and on cool days the lake 
acts as a great warming pan, giving off a grateful 

189 



1/ ( 'iuiicl! 




(}>tnrtiuiji fur a ^ail iitt (!Int|uua 

wannlli, when areas noarbv are cMiilh- and una^in- 
l"orlal>k\ 

'rinMii^h tlio lisliinj^ is iu»t what it niij^ht bo. clue 
perliai^s, lo (he iiili\>thKM icMi o\' the (lennan earp. 
ami to seiniiij; in (lie past. \'e( nian\' line ea(ehes of 
piekerel and hass are fepor(e(l. and an enduisiastie 
i^ronp ot" Isaae Wahons make i( (heir espeeial 
domain. More numerous, howexer. are (he motor 
boa( de\o(ees, I'or (he summer ex'enings are pune(u- 
a(ed. (hese (imes. \vi(h (he uneeasins:;' eha((er of 
their engines, and swell af(er swell raees nuisieally 
altMij:; (he shores, sen( ou( In- (he speed iui;' IkxiIs. 
The lii^lUs whieh (hese boa(s earr\- <.\o\ the water as 
though numerous tiretlies were tli((inL' over its 



UHl 



The W'dlcrs ('/ ("i/v/^i^c/ 

ox]Kniso. (hily less in nnnilvrs !(» tlu\so nuUor hoat 
speeders, are the canoeists anil \aehtsnion, to whom 
(lie lake seems wholly alloted in the late afternoon 
hours. The latter, espeeiallw lake aih'antai^e of the 
land breeze, whieh sprini^s up almost unfailinii^ly 
towards eveninj;, to sj>reail their snowv sails. The 
long, straight reaeh of the lake, unbroken bv islands. 
is especially favorable for their sport ; although 
islands, and the accom]xinying sheltered nooks Ihev 
create, woukl bean appreciated change of etuulit ions, 
from the viewjioint of the canoeists who idlv paildle 
o\'er the lapping waves, with summer girls in white, 
j)ictiuTsquely ensconced in the bows (A' their craft. 
And we, who aiv onlookers onlw wonder if 
ours is not, perha]\s, the best sport, this h;i\-ing the 
ever-changing picture l)efore us. Least wavs we fivl 
that to be at, ov on Cayuga's water, is compensation 
for man\- hours of toil, in the cit\' or on the hill; 
and the days spent on C'ayuga are alwa\s cherislu\l 
memories. 



1!)1 



3(n Jnbtan Stm^H 



3u 3nbtan ®tm^B 

" On the bosom of Cayuga, 
In the time of long ago, 
There were races well contested 
Where the Indian came to row." 

3F ONE pictures, in the mind's eye,' the scene 
which the above hnes portray, there is born 

into consciousness a thrill from out of the past. 
Bark canoes, naked redmen and barbaric shouts of 
encouragement to the contestants; all this one sees 
in the imagination as the setting for the primitive 
race. And then the picture fades, for how little 
more do we know of these pristine Cornellians and 
their trials and triumphs; either on the course over 
which we now so inevitably row to victory, or of 
their larger battles, — of their traditions and their 
lives? 

And this ignorance is the more strange, in the 
light of the general popular interest all things Indian 
possess today; especially so as the Iroquois Indians 
of the Five Nations were our forerunners in this 
region, and they, among the redmen of their time, 
held a place second to none; w^ere considered first, 

195 



At Cornell 

among the tribes north of Mexico, in poHtical 
organization, statecraft and miHtary prowess. In- 
deed, we ahnost owe it to ourselves, to become 
acquainted with this splendid, primitive nation 
of the past who dwelt where now our Alma Mater 
has her place. And the more so because their story* 
would possess abundant interest even though shorn 
of these associations. 

The stock from which the Iroquois trace their 
descent had its original home to the north and 
east of this region, along the St. Lawrence. From 
thence they seem to have spread to the west, north 
and south, and, in this time of migration, those 
tribes, the Cayuga, Mohawk, Oneida and Onon- 
daga, which were later to form the confederation 
of the Five Nations, came to central New York, to 
the region of the Finger Lakes. 

And it was Hiawatha who brought about their 
union. This surprises you, for Longfellow's poem, 
which has made Hiawatha's name familiar the world 
over, associates the great law-giver and reformer 
with the northern Chippewas of the Great Lakes a 
mistake for which we may blame Schoolcraft, the 
Indian historian, who confused Hiawatha with 
Manabozho, a Chippewa deity. As a result of this 
mistake the poem contains no single fact or fiction 
regarding the real Hiawatha. 

It was probably near the year 1570 A. D. that 

* The publications of the Bureau of American Ethnology, of the Smithsonian 
Institution, are authority for many of the facts presented in this sketch. 

196 



In Indian Times 



^DJSTJSJSUTION OF 
THE IROQUOIS • 




Stff Sprritory of ll|p Jrnqunia 

Hiawatha achieved his Hfework. He was it seems 
a Mohawk, by birth, but began his great work of 
reform among the Onondagas, associated with Deka- 



197 



At Cornell 

nawida, another Indian reformer. These two sought 
to bring about a new order of things, a program 
which had for its object the ending of all strife, 
murder and war, and the promotion of universal 
peace and wellbeing. Thus, for example, among 
his propositions was one that twenty strings of 
wampum were to be paid to the bereaved for the 
murder of a co-tribesman, ten for the murdered 
one's life and ten for the life of the murderer, which, 
by his act, was otherwise forfeited. The chief of 
the Onondagas however, bitterly opposed these 
reforms, and murdered Hiawatha's daughters during 
the progress of the propaganda. Then Hiawatha 
exiled himself from the Onondagas, sought and was 
also refused help by the Mohawks, and came then, 
finally, to the Oneidas and the Cayugas, which 
latter had their domain about Cayuga Lake. These 
tribes readily assented to his plans, on condition 
that the Mohawks also join the confederation, and, 
as it proved, after the others had taken the initia- 
tive, the Mohawks quickly consented; and then the 
three tribes brought their combined influence to 
bear on the Onondagas, who, on their part, made it 
a condition that the Senecas enter the union. A 
portion of the Seneca finally agreed, and then the 
Onondaga came in, and thus was formed the con- 
federation of the Five Nations. 

Their own name for this organization was 
"Ongwanonsionni," 'we are of the extended lodge,' 
and its scheme of government was patterned after 



In Indian Times 



m 



that of the Cayuga tribe. 
Wars were carried on, it 
is true, by the confeder- 
ation, to secure and per- 
petuate its poHtical hfe, 
and the tribes practised 
a ferocious cruelty on 
their prisoners, burning 
even their unadopted 
women prisoners, but in 
their social and political 
life they were really a 
kind and affectionate 
people, full of keen sym- 
pathy for kin and friends 
in distress, exceedingly 
fond of their children, 
anxiously striving for 
peace among men, and 
profoundly endowed with 
a just reverence for the 
constitution of their 
commonw^ealth and its 
founders. 

Curiously enough, 
their kinship was traced 
through the blood of the 
women only. The sim- 
plest union of the con- 
federation was what might be termed a brood fami- 



g>tnu9a of Kroqunts Uampxtm 



199 



At Cornell 

ly, composed of the progeny of a woman and her 
female descendants, counting through the female 
line only. This simple unit surrendered part of 
its autonomy to the next higher unit, and so on. 
Kinship meant membership in a family, and this, 
in turn, constituted citizenship, and conferred cer- 
tain social, political, and religious privileges, duties 
and rights, which were denied persons of alien blood, 
who might, however, be adopted into a family. The 
three functions of government were exercised by 
one and same class of persons, the chiefs, who 
were of three grades and organized into councils; 
chiefship, however, was dependent on the suffrages 
of the matrons. Iroquois marriages, again, were 
arranged by the mothers, without the consent or 
knowledge of the couple. 

Once organized, the confederation soon made its 
power felt. After the coming of the Dutch, from 
whom they obtained fire-arms, the Iroquois w^ere 
able to extend their conquests over all the neighbor- 
ing tribes until their dominion was acknowledged 
from the Ottawa river to the Tenessee and from the 
Kennebec to the Illinois river and Lake Michigan. 
The Chippewas checked their westw^ard advance; 
the Cherokees and Catawba barred their way in the 
south, while in the north the operations of the 
French ultimately hindered their further progress. 
And yet, when they had reached the height of their 
power, in 1677, they numbered only 16,000 souls. 
Certainly this was an enterprising nation, when one 

200 



In Indian Times 

considers the vastness of the territory they ruled, 
as compared to the probable number of their warriors. 
In fortification their skill was great. Their so-called 
castles were solid log structures, with platforms 
running along the top, on the inside, from which 
stones and other missiles could be hurled down on 
the besiegers. 

On the outbreak of the American Revolution, 
the League of the Iroquois decided not to take part 
in the conflict, as a nation, but to allow each tribe 
to take action for itself. Yet all the original Five 
Nations allied themselves with the English. This 
alliance was of far greater import for the coming 
struggle than the mere statement implies. For the 
Iroquois tribes were sedentary and agricultural, 
depending on the chase for only a small part of 



nl -^^ 










(Typiral 2Jark ^dubp of ll|r 3rnq«iiiH 

201 



At Cornell 

their subsistence. At the l:)eginning of the war they 
had already under cultivation an immense "acreage" 
of the great Central New York region, and they 
possessed live stock in great numbers. On the 
farms were raised the maize or Indian corn, beans, 
|)um])kins; and orchards of peach, apple and pear 
blossomed annually, making bright, in the spring- 
time, all the interlake country between Cayuga and 
Seneca. Few white men had ever seen this region 
of the Trociuois home, before the war, but the 
British quickly appreciated its possibilities, for 
immediately thousands more acres were cleared and 
tilled under their direction, and thus Central New 
York liecame a great storehouse and granary for 
the British armies. 

That their enemies should thus easily gain 
subsistence from the land while they themselves 
often suffered need was, of course, a sore thorn in 
the sides of the Continentals. Therefore, in 1779, 
Washington commissioned General Stillivan, with an 
army of five thousand men, practically one-third 
the whole Continental army, to advance from three 
directions into the Irocpiois country, and ravage it 
utterly, so that it could not, for a long time, be a 
base of supplies. And this commission was carried 
out to the letter, the Indian towns, with their great, 
long, bark houses, plunder-filled, were burned, the 
maize in the fiekls destroyed, and the live stock 
scattered and killed. Among the towns which suf- 
fered this fate were two on Cayuga lake, Ganoga, 

202 



In Indian Times 

the site of the modern Canoga, and Coreorgonel, a 
village in the Inlet valley, just south of the present 
Ithaca. A detailed record of this march into the 
wilderness, of the trials and the struggles endured 
in the dragging of cannon through the swamps and 
marshes of the flat -topped divides, is contained in 
the diaries of the army officers, and to these, of 
which the University Library possesses copies, the 
interested reader is referred. 

It seems a great pity that there was no photo- 
graphy in those days to preserve for us the condi- 
tions and the intimacies of this Indian life. As it is, 
we can do little more than conjecture its circum- 
stances. Where words suffice, a few details have 
come down to us. Money is today a word to conjure 
with, and even now its Indian equivalent, wampum, 
still has clinging to it enough of its old association 
to make it a sort of fetish, demanding introduc- 
tion into the Indian poetry of our authors. Yet 
one may question whether many readers know of 
what a string of wampum consisted. It is, therefore, 
interesting to know that this wampum, which existed 
as currency, even among the white people in the 
early Colonial period, and in New York as late as 
1693, was simply strings of white and black beads, 
carved from the valves of the quahog and other 
molluskan shells. The darker ones had a greater 
value than the white; according to Holm, "a 
white bead is of the value of a piece of copper money, 
but a brown is worth a piece of silver." This wam- 

203 



At Cornell 

])uni could be carried much more conveniently than 
skins for trading ])nr|)()ses, and it was readily 
measured out in ])ayment, by the length of the 
thumV), "from the end of the nail to the first joint 
makes six beads." 

Of the Iro(|uois mythical and legendary lore, 
more is preserved. David Cusick, one of their 
number who received an English education, wrote 
out a numl)er of these myths in his 'History of the 
Irocjuois.' The myths are all concerned with the 
creatures of their religious l)eliefs; to whose activi- 
ties they ascribe the origin of the many striking 
natural phenomena of the region. The Taughan- 
nock Falls story is perhajis the most interesting of 
these, and runs sulxstantially as follows: 

In the long-ago days, when the stone-clothed 
giants roamed the earth, the spirit of the waters 
and the spirit of the rocks had a disagreement. It 
seems that the spirit of the rocks was a lazy fellow, 
who, as are lazy characters among men today, was 
marked most definitely as such, by the fact that he 
hated to see industry in others. The water-spirit 
particularly vexed him because of his constant, 
every hour, activity; and the evidence of his acti- 
vity, which one encountered everywhere. There 
were the chafing waves of the lake, the driving 
rains and the riving frosts, and all the streams, 
little and big, flowing over the land. Moreover, 
between these two there was a rivalry of strength, 
and, as is generally the case with lazy beings, the 

L'()4 



In Indian Times 

rock-spirit was a boastful fellow, and inclined to 
sudden spurts of tremendous energy, alternating 
with much longer periods of idle lolling. At length, 
one day, unable to contain his spleen at the water- 
spirit's activity longer, he taunted this gentler deity 
with its constant laborious toil in so many different 
forms, and recited the large proportions of the works 
he accomplished almost in an instant, how he sent 
great rock slides crashing down the slopes, sprung 
loose the cliffs into the lake and so creating great 
waves; and yes, making the whole earth tremble in 
earthquakes when he stirred his underground forces. 
Moreover, he insinuated that the water-spirit needed 
the co-operation of the wind-spirit and others in 
his accomplishments, while he worked independently. 

Aroused by these insults, uttered in the ]:)resence 
cf the thunder-spirit, the lightning, the wind and 
the tree-spirits, and many others, the gentler water- 
spirit proposed a trial by combat, to determine their 
relative standing, and to settle the aggravation as 
to dominance, once and for all time. 

The rock-spirit readih^ enough, and even mock- 
ingly, agreed to the conditions the water-spirit 
proposed, and a time was set when all the spirits 
and the stone-clothed giants were to come and 
witness the contest. The water-spirit had chosen 
to fight with the Taughannock stream, which then 
flowed quietly down an even slope into the lake; 
while the rock-spirit was to inhabit an immense 
rock, great as a pine tree in height and many times 

205 



At Cornell 

as wide and long, which lay in the course of the 
same stream. The terms of the battle were that 
neither was to give up until one or the other had 
been utterly vanquished. 

At the agreed time, all the witnesses assembled, 
and the combat began. The rock-spirit made a 
tremendous fuss pushing back the waters and lash- 
ing them into foam, but, even when it seemed that 
the water-s])irit had been all but subdued, it would 
recover fresh energy from its unceasing upstream 
supply, and so l)urst the Vjarrier of the rock-spirit, 
and the battle would then begin anew. 

While to the spirits all this contest seemed 
short, in reality it occupied years. And in their 
struggles, the combatants tore a great hole in the 
earth, a half mile long and a third as wide, and 
three hundred feet deep. • Finally the water-spirit, 
by its persistence and ever renewed small-strength, 
so battered into fragments, what liad erst been a 
great rock, that the rock-spirit could no longer find 
lodging ])lacc sufficient to fight from, and was forced 
to abandon the conflict, and the water-spirit, fresh 
as ever, was unanimously approved the victor. 

Then the water-spirit took its beautiful white 
cloud form, thanked the stream which had served 
it so faithfully, and ordained that it flow for seven 
ages, with a great roar, into the abyss that had been 
wrought during the struggle, and thus serve as a 
warning to any who presume to think that bluster 
must intimidate those who arc (luictly doing. And 

2()() 



In Indian Times 

so we have the record of the water-spirit's victory, 
preserved even until now, in the form of the Taughan- 
nock Falls. 

Today the descendents of the Cayugas are 
scattered far and wide. After the Revolution, 
some had already moved to Ohio and Canada. In 
the former place, they joined other Iroquois and 
became known as the Seneca of Sandusky. These 
are now in Indian Territory; others are with the 
Oneida in Wisconsin; one hundred and seventy-five 
are with the Iroquois in New York, on the Indian 
reservation, while the majority of the surviving 
descendants of the Cayugas, some seven or eight 
hundred, are on the Grand river reservation in 
Ontario. 



207 



Saxtgljannnrk 



(Uaugliaunnrk 

^^HERE are several routes which one may foUow 
LJi in going from Ithaca to Taughannock, and of 
these the raihvay trip is the most direct, and 
is, at the same time, very interesting as it overlooks 
Cayuga lake, from the cliffs of its western shore. 
Alighting at the Taughannock Falls station, one 
finds a pleasant roadw^ay leading down to the Falls 
hotel, which has a most romantic setting among tall 
pines, some of the few of these conifers yet remain- 
ing of what were once whole forests, and of which 
the gnarled roots, in the shape of field fences, now 
constitute the only remaining evidence of their 
former existence. 

But at Taughannock great pines still border 
the edge of the gorge; and, starting from the hotel 
veranda, we follow a precipitous path, overhung by 
their boughs, to the various prospects of the falls, 
which the path affords. And these are, perhaps, 
the most picturesque view^s that can he had, for 
from these points one sees the water plunging from 
the smooth platform of its upper channel, over the 
brink, and straight down in one leap, to the green- 

211 



At Cornell 

shadowed pool below. We are over three hundred 
feet above, and a greater distance removed from 
where the concussion of the waters occurs, and the 
noise of their meeting reaches us but faintly. But 
the glamour of the scene is enticing. One instinc- 
tively speculates on the possibility of staying, for a 
time, at this quiet retreat where the pulse of the 
working world beats but feebly. Here, with a book 
and a pipe, on the veranda, looking out across the 
deep gash in the hills, on the swaying trees of the 
opposite rim, and with a peep, perhaps, in the cool 
of each morning and evening, from the prospect 
point near by, at the mystery of the water in its 
endless cyclic course, to kindle in the brain the 
dream fire of world thoughts remote from our petty 
daily routine — here we feel we could pass time, aye 
for a fortnight, in simple, big contentment. 'Twould 
be as Shakespeare has King Henry yearn: 

" Oh God! methinks it were a happy Hfe, 
To be no better than a homely swain: 
To sit upon a hill, as I do now, 
To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, 
Thereby to see the minutes, how they run. 

Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how lovely!" 

The inn is in large part responsible for this 
atmosphere; one feels that in it one has made a 
discovery. Here is one of those fal^led hostelries, 
where everything is idyllic, possessing the charm of 
being known and appreciated only by the elect. 

212 



Taughannock 

Perchance painted deceit lurks beneath the mask, 
but had one the time — it were well worth while to 
make the try- 

Following downstream, there are other points 
where overhanging ledges offer a prospect into the 
deeps below; down on the swaying crowns of the 
tall trees which root in the valley bottom, and over 
at the buttressed rocks of the opposite wall, all 
weatherworn and crumbly in the hollows, but often 
with bold, sharp fronts and sides, where a newly 
exposed joint plane cleavage reveals the unaltered 
strata. Through a little doorway in a log shelter, 
a little farther on, one comes to the pathway which 
affords a precarious descent into the gorge itself. 

University excursions often visit this locality, 
and very amusing are the unexpected traits of human 
character which often crop out when such a party, 
which pure chance has brought together for an 
experience, attempts the descent into the gorge. 
Those held most timid, often prove least nervous; 
on the other hand, the traditionally stoical Oriental 
(for the classes are often of the most cosmopolitan 
composition), very frequently crawls up a treacher- 
ous slope on hands and knees. The path which we 
are now essaying is not without its thrills for those 
who have had no experience in climbing, and its 
turns and crooks have a charm even for the 
initiated. 

No one has "improved" Taughannock gorge 
with sordid wooden walks and hand rails, so that 

213 



A I Cornell 

we see it in its ])ristine cluLrni. For which the (iods 
be praised! What matters a wet foot, or a soiled 
skirt, occasioned 1)V a shp from a ste|)])ini( stone, 
or an uncaiitious ste]) along a moist jj^reen ledj^e, 
eom])ared to the joy of pushini^ into the wild, unregu- 
lated by the hand of man! A faint trail of former 
explorers, gives the eonfukMU'e of hnnian precursors, 
and that is all the encouragement we need. 

But let us note wliat interests are al)out us. 
In the lower end of (lie gorge the rock bed of the 
stream's course is the Tull)' limeslonc, and from a 
mixture of tin's with the llaniillon shales, which lie 
directly below its twelve feet of thickness, is made 
the cement which is calcined and ground at Portland 
l\)int, on the east shore of the lake near Ithaca. 
The rocks al)ove the Tulh' arc the c-runibly (icnesee 
shales, and aU o\cr tlicir surface one sees white 
dei)osits of alum and hnic carbonate, where the 
water is k\iching the ecu km its from the fissile layers. 
I^^-om this point u])war(l it is an easy ramble along 
ledges and througli woods to the l^'alls; and along 
the way one is even moi^c im])ressed than by the 
view from above, with the hi'ight and the vertieality 
of the beetling clilTs tlirough which the water has 
cut. 

'Idle falls themselves, which come suddenly into 
view as one rounds the last bend, seem to belie 
their re])uted height, 'idiis is due to the distance 
yet intervening between us and their base; to the 
fact that the t'liffs on each sh\c arc nuich higher 

214 




QIauijliunmirU 3FaUa 



Taughannock 

than the falls themselves, and most to the fact that 
our sense of scale seems to have deserted us. How- 
ever, a nearer approach to where the spray keeps 




Saugljannork Iffalla before tifp Qlljangr in tlft Jfform of ti?f (ErpHt 

217 



At Cornell 

the black-brown, jointed cliffs constantly moist, and 
then craning the neck to gaze upward, we are enabled 
to regain the lost sense of proportion, and the true 
magnitude of the plunge the waters make bursts 
upon us, and the falls become indeed impressive. 
And they deserve the tribute which we then uncon- 
sciously bestow, for their two hundred and fifteen 
feet of fall is greater than that of Niagara by fifty- 
five feet; moreover, Taughannock is said to be the 
highest waterfall east of the Rocky mountains. 

In former years there was no break in the falls, 
at the brink; the w^ater plunged straight down 
from a projecting ledge, whereas the lip of the falls 
is now a reentrant angle. This change in form is a 
clue to the origin of the cataract, for it points out 
the infiuence of the many joints, intersecting at 
right angles, which here cut the rocks in rectangular 
blocks. Taughannock creek, like the other streams 
with gorge valleys, about Ithaca, is probably the 
result of post-glacial erosion by the stream. In 
former years, geologically speaking, the gorge was 
probably similar in character to the other gorges of 
the region and consisted, as these latter have con- 
tinued since, of a series of cascades and sloping 
reaches. But in Taughannock it happened eventu- 
ally that the edge of a hard layer, a little above the 
present height of the falls, having been worn back 
upstream to a point where the joint planes were very 
closely spaced, the water was enabled to work faster 
than it had in the less broken strata, with the result 

218 




luttprmilk (gorgp 



Taughannock 

that it swept out the underlying softer shales very 
rapidly, and probably developed a vertical fall of 
considerable magnitude, limited in height only by 
the horizon of the next hard layer. At the down- 
stream edge of this lower resistant layer, a fall was 
also working, and presently it too had reached the 
jointed area; and then coming almost immediately 
within the influence of the greater fall above, it 
increased its height and thus probably doubled the 
effectiveness of the latter. In time all the minor 
hard layers were worn back, and the falls they had 
developed were combined with the big fall, and we 
had approximately the present Taughannock falls, 
with its height of two hundred and fifteen feet. 
This is, however, about the limit in height, for the 
stream is cutting down its bed in the small gorge 
above, while below its excavating power is prac- 
tically limited by the presence of the durable Tully 
limestone, ten to fifteen feet in thickness, only a 
few feet below the present base of the falls. 

This explanation of the falls may seem plausible 
enough to the observer who stands at the cataract's 
foot, but there remains the puzzle of accounting for 
the semi-circular amphitheatre at which he gazes; 
and which is far too wide to have ever been directly 
under the influence of the falling water. Yet one 
has only to note how constantly the walls are wet 
with spray, and consider how the freezing of this 
in the crevices, and the consequent expansion, as 
the water solidifies into ice, would pry off the blocks 

221 



At Cornell 

on both sides of and behind the fall, with the same 
resistless force which it employs on our water pipes 
in winter. In summer this spray, which trickles 
from the cliffs in little runlets of silver, simulating, 
in the most fascinating manner, the presence of 
living springs in the rock; does a lesser work of 
destruction by its power of solution, and by acting 
as a promoter of oxidation, and the consequent 
disintegration of the rock. 

Projecting from these spray-moist rocks, are 
scattered rounded masses about the size of a man's 
head, and in form resembling most an exaggerated 
red peppermint drop. These are what geologists 
call concretions, and owe their origin to the accumu- 
lation of a greater amount of cement around a central 
foreign substance, as, say, a small pebble, while the 
rocks were being solidified. They project out from 
the rest of the wall in which they are imbedded, in 
part because they are more resistant to the weather- 
ing agents, and in part because the joint planes do 
not ordinarily cut through them. Of like geological 
interest are the " dikes " which cut vertically through 
the rock, and can best be seen on the left hand 
wall, as one faces the falls, and near the end of the 
circular arc of rock which curves out on each side 
from behind the falls, and about half way up the 
cliff. They look like yellow-brown tree roots, pene- 
trating the strata, except that they are tabular in 
form. An examination of a fragment, of which 
many will be found in the talus heap below the 

222 




Jilt Enfiplii (Slrn 



Taughannock 

cliff, shows them to be of igneous character, with 
flakes of mica crystals in the central core, and on 
each side an iron-stained oxidized shell. This proves 
that at some period in its history, and after the 
formation of the sedimentary layers, volcanic activ- 
ity was present in this region, manifesting itself 
by the forcing of hot, molten rock magma far upward 
toward the earth's surface from the interior, so that 
it penetrated the solid rock, and on cooling, formed 
these dikes. 

Turning our eyes again to the falls themselves, 
we may spend these last moments before quitting 
the spot most pleasurably in watching the fall of 
the water. As we look upward we appreciate the 
true height of the plunge it makes, and note how 
the at first unbroken sheet, before many feet of its 
descent have been accomplished, breaks, and then 
descends as a myriad of meteors, each with its solid 
shooting head, and a glowing trail of white foam 
flecks behind. And, indeed, the comparison is apt, 
for in both cases it is the friction of the atmosphere 
which causes this phenomenon. "Taghkanick," the 
Iroquois called the falls, signifying ' there-is-water- 
enough,' and in this we will agree; wishing at the 
same time, that all these poetic Indian names had 
been retained, as here, where it is truly in keeping, 
for the white man has, at Taughannock, for once, 
appreciated enough, or so little, as to leave the 
gorge in its primitive beauty. 



225 



Jiatkina (ilpn 



m 



Matktna (^Im 

fATKINS GLEN is located on the western side 
of the Seneca lake valley, at the southern end 
of the lake, and cuts up through the steep 
hillside which hems in the town of Watkins. The 
glen may properly enough be considered an adjunct 
of the Cornell country, for a majority, perhaps, of 
those who visit it are Cornellians, since these have 
had a desire for gorge exploration kindled by their 
climbs in the many rock canyons which neighbor 
the University campus. Watkins, however, offers 
little opportunity for climbing, as it has been made 
thoroughly accessible to the "tourist in a hurry," 
by means of metal and concrete stairways, and 
carefully constructed paths. It is partly on this 
account that the glen is best known of all the gorges 
of the Central New York region, and partly, because 
Watkins is of these, at once, the longest and the 
most varied in its component features. The "im- 
provement" of this gorge, by means of stairs and 
paths, can not well be complained of, as it affords 
many an opportunity to see the glen who would be 
physically unable to scramble from ledge to ledge, 

229 



At Cornell 

as one must do in the other gorges of the region. 
Nor can one complain of the style of this improve- 
ment, as carried out by the State Commissioners, 
who now have the park in charge, since everything 
garish has been excluded and only neat and sub- 
stantial bridges and stairways erected. 

It will not be amiss here to review briefly, 
something of the physiographic history of the Cen- 
tral New York region, a subject which has been 
outlined more fully in the preceding pages, but 
which will bear several repetitions, as it is the key 
and clue to all the scenic features which make the 
region attractive. Central New York is a plateau 
region, greatly dissected and eroded by the scouring 
of glacier and stream; but with summits which 
still rise to an elevation of two thousand feet above 
the level of the sea. At one time the region was 
the bed of a shallow sea whose bottom was slowly 
subsiding, and into whose waters many streams were 
pouring clay and sand sediments, which, falling to 
the bottom, in time built up an enormous thickness 
of shale and sandstone rock in alternating layers 
and beds. Then, at the time when the Appalachian 
mountains had their ridges uplifted, this region was 
also slowly raised until it attained an elevation of 
perhaps three thousand feet above the sea level. 
But this uplifting was no sudden movement, rather, 
a very slow process, and while it was going on the 
rains gathered into rills and streams on the newly 
exposed land, and finally into rivers, and, with the 

230 



Waikins Glen 

years, these cut themselves great wide valleys into 
the horizontal rocks. 

The main valleys that were developed in this 
manner extended in a north and south direction, 
and this was a fact most significant to the effects 
of the next great epoch in the history of the region — • 
the period of continental glaciation; a period when 
all the northeastern United States was engulfed in 
a great ice sheet. For when the ice, from its north- 
ern center, began to flow and spread southward, it 
moved most vigorously in the troughs of the north 
and south stream valleys, since these were along 
the line of the direction of its most active general 
motion. Only later, and more sluggishly, did the 
ice envelop the hilltops, and the east and west 
valleys which lay transverse to its course. Now 
if the streams had been able to cut wide valleys for 
themselves, the ice was many-fold more effective; 
it literally scoured and gouged out a course for 
itself, moreover, it was not limited in the depth to 
which it could cut, as streams are, by an ocean 
level. Consequently, before the climate changed 
and the ice melted away, the glacier had scoured 
out the bottoms of the old north and south stream 
valleys over a thousand feet deeper than they had 
been, and in places, one hundred and more feet 
below the level of the sea. Thus came into being 
the basins of the Finger lakes, and as the ice melted 
away, these were water filled. The Italian lakes of 
the south side of the Alps are of an identical origin 

231 



At Cornell 

to these, and resemble them remarkably. Thus 
Central New York has come to be called the Switzer- 
land of America. The English lake district, which 
inspired the poetry of Wordsworth, owns the same 
origin and charm. 

But the east and west valleys, as the result of 
this glacial erosion of the north and south main 
valleys, had suffered a curious fate. They were 
deepened only slightly by the ice, if at all, and, 
consequently, when their streams were again free 
to flow, they found their mouths, which had formerly 
joined the main streams at grade, to now hang from 
four hundred to a thousand feet above the trunk 
valley, so that their waters must needs plunge in a 
great waterfall to the lower level. Nothing daunted, 
they immediately began the work of readjusting 
things, of cutting their mouths down to the main 
streams' grades once more; and it is this down- 
cutting which has given us the gorges and waterfalls 
which are typified by Watkins Glen. 

Watkins Glen is only in minor respects different 
from those about Ithaca; it has the same origin, 
is cut into the same kind of rocks (shales and sand- 
stones of the Devonian period, horizontally bedded), 
and its waters are tributary to the larger lake valley. 
Its distinctive features are that it is longer and 
narrower, and that its characteristic waterfalls are 
neither straight falls, like that of Taughannock, nor 
distinct step falls, like the Ithaca falls and those 
in Cascadilla; they resemble most the lower falls 

232 




H31]prp lljp Jlatpr Makca iCmtg g-ltiJpa 



Wat kins Glen 

of Buttermilk, places where the water makes long 
steep slides, as through a flume. This is due to 
several peculiarities of the rock structure in Watkins, 
the first being that the east and west set of joint 
planes (vertical cracks which are present in almost 
all rocks and cut them into blocks), are only very 
obscurely developed in the rock at Watkins Glen, 
whereas those running north and south are present 
there as distinctly as in the gorges around Cayuga 
lake. As the Watkins' stream flows almost directly 
east, joint planes have lent little if any guidance 
to its course, for as it cuts directly across the north 
and south cracks, and the east and west ones are 
absent, the erosion has been simply that of a con- 
tinuous grinding, and not removal in blocks, as is 
the case where both sets of planes are present. A 
comparison of pictures will make this clear. 

This simple erosion, by grinding, accounts for 
the fact that Watkins Glen is narrower than the 
other gorges, for since the erosion in Watkins was 
only that due to the grinding by the stream with 
its rock fragment tools, the cut made was but little 
wider than the average width of the ribbon of water 
to which it owes its origin; and this again, accounts 
for the fact that Watkins Glen is narrower than the 
gorges near Ithaca. No blocks are removed bodily, 
as is so notably the case in the gorges about Cayuga 
lake, and especially apparent in Enfield gorge. The 
widening at the upper slopes of Watkins Glen is due 
to the weathering agents, operative with the same 

235 



At Cornell 

effectiveness here as in other parts of the region, 
but perhaps also impeded here by the absence of 
the east and west joints, though in less degree than 
are the agents of erosion. The smoothness, in places, 
of the cuts that the water has made, leads one to 
believe that the rocks at Watkins are more uniformly 
resistant to wear than those in other gorges; (they 
are rocks of a higher horizon and can well have 
different characteristics than those around the south 
end of Cayuga lake, for instance) but these appear- 
ances may be deceptive, and the conclusion unwar- 
ranted. 

One enters the gorge almost directly from the 
main street of Watkins town, and comes first to the 
Alpha glen and the Entrance cascade. All the feat- 
ures of the Watkins Glen have had names given 
them, and are marked by unobtrusive sign boards; 
these latter, a reform effected by the state commis- 
sioners. Here, at the entrance, the commission has 
also constructed a tunnel through the solid rock, by 
the passage of which one comes into the character- 
istic portion of the glen. 

Some distance up the gorge the Labyrinth and 
Cavern cascade are encountered. The Labyrinth is 
the name applied to the series of abnormally steep 
stairs, hung back and forth across the gorge, by 
which one climbs some one hundred feet, almost 
straight up, and in front of the fall of the Cavern 
cascade and its circular pothole, to a higher path 
along the side of the upper reaches of the gorge. 

236 



Watkins Glen 



The Cavern cascade is notable in that it -is the 
one perpendicular descent in the gorge of any mag- 
nitude. But its interest is in the huge and cylin- 
drical pothole which the waters have ground out in 
the rocks at the base of the fails, and which is even 
now being deepened by the pebbles and boulders, 
its tools, which the water is swirling about on the 
bottom, and so grinding and scouring the rock. 
How perfectly this is done, the sides of the pothole 

testify. The rocks 
are almost uniform 
in resistance, yet 
every little harder 
layer stands out as 
a rounded ridge, 
and the soft layers 
are marked by 
concave hollows. 
Thus the side of 
the pothole pre- 
sents a remarkable 
series of ringed 
corrugations which 
are so regular as 
to seem artificial 
in origin. It is 
curious that these 
flutings should 
not have been de- 
siijp (dauprn aiasraftp stroycd, at least 




237 



At Cornell 

in the upper portions of the cyhnder, by the weath- 
ering action of frost sphtting off fragments of the 
shale rock, and the fact that they remain intact 
over the whole surface, probably illustrates the 
comparative rapidity with which such pothole cut- 
ting is done in shale, and under a perpendicular fall. 

Having ascended the Labyrinth stairs and 
stopped to rest and regain breath on the lookout 
platform at the top, one is next offered the choice 
of three paths through the Sylvan gorge, just beyond, 
above. These paths are respectively high above, 
half way down, and at the bottom of the gorge; 
and the middle one affords perhaps the best vantage 
ground for seeing the beauties of this, the prettiest 
of the series of gorges which make up the glen. 
Here the cut is narrow and is overhung and embow- 
ered by the evergreen of tall hemlocks; green moss 
clothes the black rock, and delicate fronds of fern, 
of a yellower hue, relieve here and there the monot- 
ony of the dark green of the moss carpet. This 
gorge ends in the Sylvan rapids, one of the flume- 
like waterways w^hich distinguish Watkins, and of 
which still better examples occur higher up in its 
course. 

Beyond the Sylvan rapids the gorge widens out 
into the Glen Cathedral, resultant, probably, from 
the close spacing of the north and south joints at 
this point, and the consequent more rapid weather- 
ing of the walls, causing this enlargement. The 
Cathedral walls are almost perpendicular, and may 

238 




uHjf S>ylvtan (^argt 



Watkins Glen 

be estimated as one hundred and twenty-five feet 
high. On their sides is a persistent, yellow-green 
stain, probably sulphur, released by the weathering 
of crystals of iron pyrites (iron sulphide), which 
occur in the shale rock. 

In general, the names that the commission has 
given to the features in the glen, are rather apt, and 
much more pleasing than those commonly applied 
to unusual natural phenomena. In many localities 
there seems to exist an irresistable impulse to couple 
the name of the Satanic majesty and his abode, to 
such objects, and we have, in consequence, innum- 
erable Devil's Punch Bowls, Devil's Slides, Hell 
Gulches, and the like, scattered through the country. 
Yet the closely following, three features next in 
order, in Watkins, also have names which present 
anomalies. First there is an old pothole, worn 
down at the rim until it has been made quite shallow, 
but yet retaining its original width ; this is called the 
Baptismal Font. Then comes the trite in names, a 
Central cascade, to be followed, just above, by a little 
corner which is glorified by the title. Poet's Dream. 

The Central cascade best exemplifies what has 
been termed, in a previous paragraph, the "slides," 
which the water makes in descending the gorge. 
At this point, it rushes down a corkscrew like, 
smooth passage, twisting around until every water 
particle must, perforce, accomplish complete spirals 
in its descent, and then help hollow out, at the bot- 
tom, a pothole which is at least twelve feet deep. 

1^ 241 



At Cornell 

Above the Poet's Dream there follow, first, the 
Emerald Pool, a name justified by the beautiful 
green of the deep water, and then the Glen of Pools, 
where the path comes close to the water's edge and 
one can observe, close at hand, and even feel of the 
smooth carvings the water with its pebble and sand 




®l?p dptttral (SaHraftp — A Iflume If alia 
242 



Watkins Glen 

tools, has effected in its rock bed. One also notes 
how the larger rounded stones in the bottoms of 
the pools, potholes again, are cast up at the lower 
side of the pool, away from the rush of the water, 
to lie there quiescent, until the turbulent current of 
a next flood period shall have power to again wield 
these heavier tools, and, whirling them round and 
round, grind the pools yet deeper. 

The Glen of Pools ends with the pretty Triple 
Cascades, and up a stairs past these the path passes 
directly behind the screen of the water threads of 
the Rainbow Falls. These are formed by a small 
tributary stream which pours its slender contribution 
of clear water, from nearby springs, over the sides 
of the main gorge, here narrow and steep-walled. 
This little stream could not cut down into the rock 
as fast as the main stream, both because its volume 
was deficient, and, flowing south, it lacked the 
grade to give it sufficient velocity to carry cutting 
tools. Thus this little stream remains hanging, 
instead of coming in at grade, as normal tributaries 
should, and forms a duplication of the conditions 
which have given rise to the main gorge, but here 
shown in the first stage of the process. For just as 
the main gorge has been cut back from a first water- 
fall, tumbling directly into the larger, overdeepened 
Seneca valley; so this little stream now tumbles, 
by a first fall, into the younger Watkins gorge, and 
will, in time, as surely etch its own smaller gorge 
in the side of the main glen. But for all the years 

243 



At Cornell 

that we, of this and many generations to come, 
shall know it, there will be little appreciable change; 
it will stay a moss-lipped falls, raining its threads 
of silver directly into the larger cleft. 

In the next feature one may fear that the com- 
mission has been a little amiss in the name it has 
given: Pillar of Beauty. But, as there is a some- 
what tame stretch here, they would probably plead 
that it was interpolated to beguile the tourist visitor, 
whose interest might otherwise flag until he came 
to the Elfin Gorge, where all the gorge feattires we 
have thus far seen, are done over again in miniature. 
Then one comes out into the long, wide, open stretch, 
called felicitously. Glen Facility, — from the ease 
with which one may walk along a natural pathway, 
formed by a ledge of sandstone outcropping along 
the gorge side. This ledge has been cleared of the 
overlying shales, and so affords a perfectly level 
and smooth pathway to the head of the glen, at 
which point it is crossed by a railroad bridge. Along 
this stretch the irrepressible American tourist finds 
opportunity to express his personality, and one 
notes innumerable flat stone tablets set up, with 
scratched inscriptions, which proclaim, for example, 
that "Sile, the Colorado cowboy" has been here, 
and that he wishes to exchange picture post cards 
with "handsome girls." Nor are the handsome 
girls backward, they too, have scratched "Lorna 
Thompson, Fairville, Maine, R.F.D. No. 3," and 
invited a like courtesy. There is a naive curiosity 

244 



Watkins Glen 

within us, all about the unknown human, and a desire 
to come in contact with him, which here, and elsewhere 
similarly, finds in this way, a crude expression. 

And now, having clambered, by proxy, through 
this and other gorges, you ask perhaps, ' why these 




alip ^ilnrr alirrafta of Sainbnui j> cilia 
245 



At Cornell 

guide-booky articles?' Well, most of us are partners 
in the campaign which is being waged against the 
spoliation of our American scenic resources, but how 
few of us know what and where these are, excepting 
those several grand features w^hich have been adver- 
tised from time immemorial. And not knowing, can 
we have a great interest in their preservation? 
That a region so near, geographically, to the centers 
of our population as this central part of New York 
state, should, with its great scenic interest and 
beauty, be, to most readers, literally as foreign to 
ken as the Rockies or the Alps, is certainly a con- 
dition which one ought to strive to overcome. And 
when persons who are travelers and nature-lovers, 
and thus keenly alive to the charms of the European 
landscape, declare this region to excel in beauty 
and wildness, many regions in Europe which are 
perennially celebrated by the American tourist; is 
it not time that we point, even somew^hat vehem- 
ently, to our own "nearby" attractions? 



246 



^iTOK the Cornellian botanist and wildflower 
TF lover, the year begins with the blossoming 
of the arbutus in the early April weeks. 
Sometimes, indeed, this flower peeps out from under 
snow hollows, but more often hides under the — 
fragrant still — autumn leaves, on the sunny, south- 
facing slopes of the hills. And, indeed, the flower 
lover prizes this first comer, perhaps, the more 
highly because the Cayuga region is very near the 
western limit of its habitat. That it is not abundant 
near Cornell, and is growing scarcer, helps to make 
it precious. The threatened extinction is feared 
from the ruthlessness of those who pull up the whole 
plant when collecting the fragrant pink and white 
blossoms. Whether, however, any check is put 
upon such persons by urging, as do all the flower 
loving essayists, that they cease their vandalism, I 
question, nor am I in accord with them in their 
belief that its localities should not be revealed to 
others, by those who know, for the worst vandals 
are those who profit by hawking the arbutus in 

249 



At Cornell 




Sllfp g>mtn9 Silo^ipa of X\\t t^illa 

the city streets, and the uninitiated and unscientific 
searcher, who would dehght in its finding, is often 
disappointed in his hunt, for lack of some simple 
directions. Look, then, you newcomers, to whom 
the historic May-flower of the Pilgrims possesses 
romantic interest, on the warm south slopes of the 
hills, near the shelter of some pine woods, and if 
you would be sure of success, go far afield, for the 
nearby places are all but barren. 

The arbutus, firstling though it be, does not far 
precede the hepaticas, who, protected by their fuzzy 
furs, have been nestling close to the ground, eagerly 
awaiting the first peeps of the warm spring sun. 



250 



Wild Flowers Haunts and the Seekers of Them 

There is a path on the north side of Beebe lake, 
where they flourish especially, and those who take 
the first opportunities for outdoor excursions, watch 
there for their appearance. Often the late spring 
frosts catch them, and then they are forced to retire 
to their furs again, but seldom are they completely 
vanquished. A "stunt" which affords their enjoy- 
ment, without fear of nipping frosts, is to lift a 
plant or two which is full of buds, and bring it into 
the house. Then you will have a succession of 
flowers for two weeks, each one perfect. This Beebe 
path is also a famous place for violets, later, when 
the sun has climbed so high in the heavens that 
the frosts can not come. Another place where vio- 
lets are exceedingly abundant is on Violet Island in 
the Cascadilla gorge. This island is situated where 
the gorge widens out in an amphitheatre beyond 
the dam which marks the terminus of Goldwin 
Smith Walk. 

One of the prettiest happenings in the Cornell 
flora is the blooming of the bluet colony on South 
hill. There are literally acres of the delicate little 
things, so fragile that one would think the fairest 
breeze would lay them low. But they are to 
their conditions sturdily resistant, and never fail of 
an appearance at their appointed time in May. In 
the thickets, nearby, fringing the pine grove rem- 
nants, there come in the early June weeks, the 
showy blossoms of the sheep laurel. 

But it is in the gorges that the real display of 

251 



At Cornell 



the May weeks 
takes place. Hi- 
ram Corson, it 
is related, once 
said to one of 
the unfit, "The 
gorges are gor- 
geous, "and was 
nearly overcome 
by spleen be- 
cause that good 
pun was un- 
appreciated. It 
must have been 
during Ma}' 
that the gorges 
evoked his wit- 
ticism. For then 
the trilliums are 
on their annual 
parade, mar- 
shaled by the jacks-in-pulpits, and indeed, it is a 
splendid procession. One should go to the open 
places of Six Mile for the best view. There you w^ill 
find wild flower gardens, planned and planted by 
Nature. Perhaps you have not realized that she is 
the original artist, and the best, in the grouping of 
flowers; that her charges are not scattered singly 
through the woods, but are disposed in gardens, 
most fascinating in outline, and situated where their 




qtre tije iifrpattraa iFlnurtalj 



252 




I g 






Wild Flowers Haunts and the Seekers of Them 

occupants may thrive and appear at their best. 
So it is especiahy with the great, white trilhunis, 
nodding their precise, dress parade salutes, from 
the tops of their smooth stalks. 

There are also less flaunting inhabitants of the 
gorges; and some which are almost retiring. Such, 
is the little pink Primula Mitassinica. This primrose 
has its Mittassinica species name from a lake in 
northern Labrador, and the botanists know it as an 
Alpine flower, and say that it is a remnant of the 
flora of the glacial period, left behind on the retreat 
of the ice, and now found only in the coolest, south 
sides of the gorges, where the winter ice sometimes 
persists far into May, and whose crevices are ever 
laved by the coldest of spring water. Under the 
bridge, which spans Fall creek just below Beebe 
lake, is one of its retreats, and in Taughannock 
gorge another. 

Griffis, in his Pathfinders of the Revolution, 
relates a pretty, sentimental story regarding this 
flower and its occurrence at the Fall creek locality, 
which is worth repeating. In the Revolutionary 
days, one Herman Clute, of Schenectady, then a 
frontier town, had a sweetheart, Mary Vrooman, 
who was taken captive by the Indians at the Cherry 
Valley massacre. The Indians carried her to Kendaia 
near the site of the modern town of the same name, 
and there she was adopted into the Seneca tribe. 
Later she found an opportunity to send a letter 
back to her white friends, by a captive negro, whom 

265 



At Cornell 

the Indians regarded as a trusty. In this she 
described a hiding place she had discovered, near 
a great waterfall, in a gorge at the south end of 
Cayuga lake, and to this place she proposed to flee, 
if ever a punitive expedition should be sent into 
the lake country. The exact locality she described 
as being recognizable by the flowering there, on the 
gorge walls, of the little primrose, which she had 
noted only here, and in the letter she included 
pressed specimens. 

Not long after, General Sullivan's expedition 
was sent out, and this expedition Herman Clute 
joined, with great hopes of rescuing his lost sweet- 
heart. Eventually, on September 24, 1779, a 
detachment of the army, under Colonel Dearborn, 
reached the southern end of Cayuga lake, and 
destroyed the Indian town of Coreorgonel. with its 
twenty-five 'elegantly' built houses. The Indians 
had several days earlier fled the country. On the 
next day Herman Clute obtained permission to 
seek out, if possible, the hiding place of the captive 
girl, and, if indeed she had succeeded in escaping, 
to bring her back to the safety of the camp. 

Once again that morning he examined carefully 
the pressed specimens in his pocket case, and then, 
with fast beating heart, hurried forward. Up and 
down Cascadilla he paced, and found no such leaf; 
the flowering time of the plant was now long 
past. Almost despairing, he crossed this stream 
and continued northward, until he found himself on 

256 




^ 3 ti ^ 



» 






IS 



Wild Flowers Haunts and the Seekers of Them 

the brink of a still greater ravine. Here he chanced, 
almost at once, on what we know as Triphammer 
Falls, and, peering eagerly along the gorge sides, 
discovered, to his joy, the anxiously sought leaf. 
But where was the captive maiden? 

Nowhere on this side of the gorge was any 
hiding place that he could discover. Was she on 
the other side? He shouted, "Mary Vrooman! 
Mary Vrooman!" Then the bushes on the opposite 
cliff parted near the bottom of the gorge, and a 
girl's face appeared. It was a lover's haste and 
fortune that made the difficult crossing at this 
point safe, and almost in a moment Mary was pour- 
ing her story into Herman's willing ears. It had 
all turned out as she had planned, and the little 
pink primrose had played its part well. 

As the summer grows, the flowers of the valleys 
become somew^hat rank, and then one seeks the 
hills where the breezes seldom cease. Here are 
great meadows, decked in Queen Anne's lace, more 
commonly called wild carrot, but none the less 
beautiful, however termed. The summits them- 
selves give an outlook over the green checkered 
fields of the long valley slopes, and one sees far 
away, the blue turquoise of Cayuga water. 

Then comes a blank, continuing until the sum- 
mer's ending, that is, vacation time, and, when 
Cornellians return, the country has donned the 
glorious panoply of Autunin, garments gay with 
yellows and reds. All too soon this fades away, 

259 



At Cornell 



and then conies winter to hide under a snow cover, 
our erstwhile wild flower gardens. Only the graceful 
tall goldenrods, boneset and joe-pye-weeds, still 
wave brown plumes on long, slender stems, decked 
though they be, in winter caps. And with their 
beauty of form, we must content ourselves, until 
Spring once more paints the landscape in color. 




260 



^tuft^nt ffitfr nf iEitrrgfiag 



^jJlJHEN one comes to think it over, one realizes 
llj that it is the routine of everyday, and the 
trivial incidents which vary it, that constitute 
actual student life at Cornell. A stunt book may 
be cumbered with programs and S])ring Day 
souvenirs, yet such mementos, are only representa- 
tive of episodes. They do not tell of the hum-drum 
making of eight-o 'clocks, of the times sent u]3 to 
the board or called on for recitation in the class 
room quizzes, or of the evenings spent with the 
fellows in the house or downtown, or of the after- 
noons on the field. There is need of some other 
device than the stunt book, if we would carry away 
tangible records of this real, intimate life of the 
school. 

Yet — when one does stop to consider, it is not 
so hum-drum after all. Probably there are more 
little excitements and experiences scattered through 
University, undergraduate existence than one will 
meet in any of the common walks of life wherein 
the student may find himself in after years. The 
undergraduate's days slip along, so full of variety, 

263 



At Cornell 

that he scarcely notes their passing. Not one of 
them is just hke that preceding; and in that fact, 
perhaps, is the charm of coUege hfe. 

This Hfe at Cornell begins with the moment 
that the freshman alights from his train at Ithaca. 
In waiting at the station, is a buzzing crowd of 
classmen, and his greeting comes either from the 
members of the particular fraternities to whom he 
has been recommended, or from home friends, or, 
if he comes a stranger, all unknown, he is seized 
upon by the room agency solicitors and hustled 
away up the hill, to be piloted through vacant room 
after room, until, in confusion and sheer despera- 
tion, he finally selects one, more on the basis of 
chance than design. In another year, he will look 
with more care after closet room, outlook, heating 
arrangement, and most of all, inquire about the 
character of the landlady — but all that needs the 
wisdom of experience. It must be confessed that 
the rooms which the room agency man shows the 
freshman do not afford much in choice, both as to 
convenience and management. There are good 
rooms and good landladies, but these seldom fall 
to the lot of the stranger freshman, for obvious 
reasons. 

Thus the freshman probably finds himself under 
a roof which also shelters a number of other fresh- 
men in the same plight as himself. Say that it is 
due to a like misery, if you will; at any rate, they 
soon find each other company, and discover com- 

264 



Student Life of Everyday 




A (EampuB TSiata 

mon interests. As an accompaniment to these 
newly made friendships, rough-housing soon begins, 
tusshng and wresthng in the rooms, singing of 
Cornell songs until all hours of the night. These 
happy times often end in the middle of the first term, 
with the expulsion by the landlady of the whole 
crowd from her house. Such expulsion is generally 
not such a calamity as it might seem, for, although 
there is seldom a contract to that effect, custom 
(as interpreted by the landladies, it is law), binds 
the student to keep for the year the room he engages 
at the beginning of the fall term. In other words, 
it is a lease which may be terminated without notice 
by the landlady, but is binding on the student. 



265 



At Cornell 

Moreover, Ithaca justice has such strange kinks, 
that even an upperclassman would shrink from 
a legal conflict with native Ithaca. Therefore, an 
expulsion is often a blessing in disguise, for it means 
that the freshman may seek more congenial quarters. 
And very often the rough-housing is simply an 
expression of the student's distaste and chafing at 
his environment. When the landlady does not keep 
the rooms clean, when the heat is lacking, both in 
quantity and uniformity, when he finds that he is 
overpaying — what redress has the student? 

Cornell needs dormitories for the men students. 
The first good these wotild confer would be this 
relief from the exactions of the owners and managers 
of private rooming houses. One of these owners, 
a woman, naively met a complaint about rather 
exhorbitant charges — for Ithaca even — by saying 
that "she had a debt on this house and intended to 
get it paid off as soon as possible." Then again, 
the landladies, in general, are anything but self- 
effacing servants — they have a most interesting class 
of roomers, and, in consequence, their curiosity leads 
them to intrude, often and long, when the broadest 
hints will often not suffice to terminate their visits. 
Moreover, dormitories would promote good-fellowship 
and acquaintance among men who are not in frater- 
nities. That this would follow, is evidenced by the 
fact that even the comparatively small number of 
fellows in a rooming house, thrown together by 
chance as they are, almost always find common 

266 



Student Life of Everyday 

interests and form friendships. In the wider sphere 
of dormitory Ufe, the good quahties of many men 
would win for them a much broader acquaintance 
and closer friends than is possible under present 
conditions, simply by bringing each student in con- 
tact with more men, and thus affording congenial 
spirits the possibility of finding each other out. 
Only a very small fraction of the student body can 
possibly be elected to fraternities, numerous though 
these are, because of the limitation in the possible 
number of members. 

On the other hand, the freshmen who are met 
at the train by the fraternity delegates, are, in most 
cases, spared this contact with rooming house 
keepers, since they are very shortly housed in the 
chapter homes. Nevertheless, the tendency toward 
class distinction, which the fraternities promote, is 
to be deplored, both for the sake of their members, 
and the great majority of students who are not 
affiliated with them. Admitting, for the moment, 
something which may be far from true, that the 
fraternities get the best men, the result of this is 
that these 'best ' fraternity men never get the point 
of view of the majority, and are out of sympathy 
with its ideals and ambitions. The majority again, 
are deprived of the stimulus which would come by 
contact with fellows who, by reason of birth, wealth, 
social accomplishments or athletic prowess, have 
some distinction. There are sharp enough lines 
drawn afterwards, in the social world; here at school 

267 



. 1/ ( 'oiiii'l! 

lilt' ;u'( |ii;iiiil;iiirt' of iii.iii with iiKiii, i"i'j',;ii'(lK'SS ol 
his pcdi^ive, social |»()r.ili(iii, and wcallh, would ho 
saiic'i', and cMicnnra;'/' a ln'llcr and jM'caU'i' sohdaiity 
of (\ diii'M s| lint . 

As it is, the social Iniu'tions of the I ' in\crsit y, 
oi'cnrin*', in |nnior week and vScnior week, are almost 
e\clusi\'c'l\' Ml tlu' control of the frat(M-nit ios. 'Pho 
non-fratcnnL\' sfudcnt, in fact, has no |)lact> to 




:\ 0.>Uui)it<i' 111 OiMili'tutlii ii^iiiltt! lUtilU 

J I is 



J^V^v 1 1^ n 1'' - r ^^ 



•A ^-^ 




g : c t. n 
a B .3 ^ .5 






n 



At Cornell 

entertain guests. There is a growing opposition to 
this state of affairs, which is manifesting itself in 
the formation of numerous clubs and even Greek 
letter fraternities, which have, at present, no national 
existence. This movement is viewed with disfavor 
by the older fraternities, as it seems to them to 
detract from their former prestige. Yet many 
fellows outside the fraternities are able financially, 
and are accustomed to entertain, and are, in this 
manner, demanding a place in the social functions 
of the University which, independently, they could 
not do. It must not be inferred that the fraternities 
are narrow and extremely exclusive; even the 
tradition that a man who has waited table can 
never make a fraternity, does not hold, for several 
such men have been elected in recent years to good 
societies. 

There are, of course, impossible people in col- 
lege, as elsewhere, yet dormitories would undoubt- 
edly promote Cornell spirit and make better all 
round men than the present system can produce. 
There would still be fraternities, but with their 
membership limited to the three upper classes. 

Among the classmen of the professional colleges 
of the University, that is the colleges of engineering, 
law, medicine, architecture, agriculture and chem- 
istry, a certain acquaintance and fellowship develops, 
irrespective of fraternity lines, due to the fact that 
all these follow a prescribed course, and therefore 
meet each other throughout the four years of their 

270 



Student Life of Everyday 

University career, in the classes of the subjects 
which they must all study. This opportunity for 
getting acquainted is, however, denied the men in 
the college of Arts and Sciences, where the courses 
elected are almost wholly optional with the students, 
from year to year. Consequently, a student in the 
Arts college meets with a new group in each course 
he enters, moreover, each course may be composed 
of students from all the four classes. And, perhaps, 
it is this absolute lack of continued contact among 
Arts men which accounts for the comparative weak- 
ness of their college in the University. The existence 
of many societies, such as the English club, Jugatae, 
Deutcher Verein, and the like, composed of groups 
of Arts students who have common interests, is 
evidence that the need is felt; and that the under- 
graduates are making an effort to become acquainted 
with those who are working along similar lines. 
Membership in most of these is purely voluntary, 
and eligibility depends on a subject knowledge of, 
or interest in, the society's specific field. At this 
point also, may be mentioned the class honorary 
societies. Sphinx Head, Quill and Dagger, Aleph 
Samach and Dunstan, the first two being senior, 
and the latter, respectively, junior and sophomore 
societies. Membership in these is elective, and 
eligibility is based on achievement in college activi- 
ties. There are, besides these, many other social 
organizations whose members meet more or less regu- 
larly, to smoke, to play cards, to read, and what not. 

271 



At Cornell 




The boarding houses and restaurants, which 
latter are known as "dog wagons," are meeting 
places wherein many non-fraternity students make 
friends, and enlarge their acquaintance circle in the 
University, and, if these dining halls were not so 
uniformly cheerless and depressing, they would 
afford a large measure of the relief one looks for 
from the dormitory plan. But as a great number 
of these dining rooms are the basements of houses, 
it requires little imagination to conceive what 
gloomy, damp and stuffy places they are. Yet a 
plan to be recommended for its value in becoming 
acquainted, and also because it secures for the 
student a greater variety of fare, is to change board- 
ing houses every month or six weeks. This scheme 



272 



Student Life of Everyday 

practically secured the election of one man to one 
of the best offices in the gift of his class. 

Even the student who is following a prescribed 
course has a schedule of classes, which differ, in 
some detail at least, with that of every other fellow 
who is doing the same work. This is because the 
number registered for almost every course is so 
large as to necessitate the class being subdivided 
into many sections, meeting at different hours. 
Then, if a student is pursuing five or six studies, 
the number of permutations and combinations of 
these sections that can be made is great, and there- 
fore the schedules vary in almost every case. In 
Arts, where the courses are wholly elective, no two 
schedules are alike except by design. The first 
great desideratum in arranging a schedule in any 
college of the University, is to avoid " eight o 'clocks," 
that is, classes which meet at eight in the morning. 
The second is to keep as many afternoons as possible 
free, especially Saturday afternoon, because of the 
games. In consequence of this, the tardy ones on 
registration day, get more than their quota of these 
undesirable hours, as a waiting line forms on such 
occasions, which often extends over the length of 
a city block. 

Evenings are supposed to be spent in study, 
but as a matter of fact it is wonderful what a small 
portion of time will suffice this purpose with many 
men, and yet enable them to get a mark of sixty 
or more. Cards, occasional feeds, and the theatre, 

19 273 ' 



At Cornell 

help to while away the time. Ithaca, though claim- 
ing only fifteen thousand inhabitants, is rated by 
theatrical managers as a one hundred thousand 
town. The students, therefore, make the theatre 
possible, and accordingly they feel that they have 
the ancient Roman privilege of showing clenched 
fists and hidden thumbs to any players who fail 
to gain their approval; only the "thumbing" often 
takes the form of a rough house of such proportions 
that it is impossible for the actors to proceed. The 
sprinkling of native Ithacans, who occupy seats at 
the theatre, resent this in the extreme, and numer- 
ous arrests are often a resultant of these student 
picnics. While it is difficult to defend mob rule, 
it would seem that this unruly spirit, on part of 
the students, is fostered by the attitude of the 
Ithaca police court, which imposes preposterously 
large fines on students, for very trivial offenses, 
whereas others escape with only a nominal punish- 
ment. The principle being, that students have 
money and can pay. It is said that an Ithaca 
lawyer, writing for a local paper, on the subject of 
the town's finances, stated that the revenue from 
fines, collected mostly from students, was practically 
sufficient to pay the running expenses of the court 
and the police force, and admitted that it was a 
shameful extortion. Probably this statement was 
no great exaggeration, for a characteristic fine would 
be the assessing of a student twenty-five dollars and 
costs for pitching a penny onto the stage at the 

274 




Olljf Siibrarij gilopp — Eurmno 



Student Life of Everyday 

Lyceum, in derision of the play or the acting. In 
a news report which has just come to my notice, 
a native Ithacan, "plain drunk," had his sentence 
suspended, while a "singing" student was fined 
thirty dollars. 

Student activities, is a comprehensive phrase, 
which is in a sense descriptive of the major interests 
of college life — to many Cornell students. If a man 
is not physically qualified for winning atheltic dis- 
tinction, he enters into competition for college 
honors, membership in the elective clubs, the class 
honorary societies, all of which are to be achieved, 
in part, by success in securing a managership or 
assistant managership for some athletic or other 
organization. The competitions for the position of 
assistant manager, "ass-managers," as they are 
popularly known, is only less strenuous than the 
pursuit of athletic distinction. The fraternities more 
or less require their sophomore members, who have 
not given promise of distinction along other lines, 
"to come out," as the phrase is, for these "ass- 
managerships." The menial character of the tasks 
which these candidates must perform, and do per- 
form, is really surprising. Thus they must often, 
late at night, and in freezing weather, chalk notices 
on all the campus walks, announcing games, meet- 
ings and performances. They roll the tracks for 
the runners, and retrieve from the mud, the hammer 
and the shot, hurled by the field men at practice. 
At the club house they are handy with shoestrings 

277 



At Cornell 

and the like. No doubt the training they get, in 
such a school, is of great value, but it certainly is 
a strenuous life. 

Of course the man with musical ability tries 
for the Glee club, or the Mandolin and Guitar clubs, 
in both which aggregations the Cornell organization 
ranks preeminent among the colleges of the East. 
These clubs make "Christmas trips" each year, 
visiting a number of large cities, and enjoying royal 
entertainment by enthusiastic alumni and friends 
The same is true of the Masque, the dramatic club, 
in recent years. Membership in all these again, is 
dependent on competition and election. 

Then there are the editorial boards and business 
managerships of the Sun, the University daily, 
morning paper; the Widow, the bi-monthly comic 
magazine ; as well as of the Era, the literary monthly, 
to be competed for. The successful candidates are 
those who, in addition to doing the regular work 
divided among all the competitors for any one 
publication, tasks assigned by the board in office, 
bring in the greatest quantity, and best quality of 
acceptable material for the publication, or the great- 
est amount of new advertising. 

In the past each class has supported a debating 
club; and in addition, there is a mock Congress, with 
a speaker and members from various districts, as in 
the national body. But debate is in distinctly less 
favor since the era of athleticism and business enter- 
prises. The reason being that the rewards, neither 

278 



CORNELL UNIVERSITY 
WEEKLY CALENDAR 

Annual Subscription One Dollar Published by Cornell University 



No. 24. Saturday, February 6. 1909 



SUNDAY, February 7 

nion Theolo^cal Seminary, New York City. Morning ser- 

MONDAY, February 8 

ARTS AND SCIENCE LECTURE— "Reconslruction of Theology," by the Rev, Hugh Black of the Union Theological Sem- 
inary, New York City. Coldvuin SmUli Hall, Room /?, 5 p M 

TUESDAY, February 9 

SANITARY SCIENCE AND PUBLIC HEALTH— "Food Adulterations and Their Detection," lecture by E. M. Chamot. 

Professor of Sanitary Chemistry, Cornell University. Mone Hall, Room /, 12 M. 
ARTS AND SCIENCE LECTURE— "Reconstruction of Theology," by the Rev Hugh Black of the Union Theological Sem. 

inary. New York City. Coldwin Sntilt Hall, Room B, 5 p. M. 
BIOLOGICAL SOCIETY— Meeting. "Review of Physical Expression," by Mr. W A. Hilton. McGrow Hall, Room g, Norlh 

Enlranu. 8 p M. 

WEDNESDAY, February 10 

ARTS AND SCIENCE LECTURE-"Reconslruct.on of Theology," by the Rev. Hugh Black of the Union Theological Sem- 
inary, New York City. Goldwtn Smith Hall, Room B, 5 P M 

BARNES HALL— Mid-week meeting Y. W C. A , Tnphy Room, 7 p. M. 
Mid-week meeting C. U. C. A , Weil Dome, 7:15 P. M. 

CLASSICAL AND HISTORY CLUBS— Joint meeting. Address by Professor C. E. Beknett, "An Ancient Schoolmaster's 
Message to Present-Day Teachers". Open to teachers and prospective teachers. Goldwin Smith Halt, Room tj4, 8 p. M. 

THURSDAY, February 11 

SANITARY SCIENCE AND PUBLIC HEALTH— "Effect of Dairy Processes on Pathogenic Bacteria and Their Transmission 
to Human Beings," lecture by W A. Stocking, Professor of Dairy Bacteriology, Cornell University. Coldwin Smith Hall, 
Room A, 12 M. 

ARTS AND SCIENCE LECTURE— "Reconstruction of Theology," by the Rev. Hugh Black of the Union Theological Sem- 
inary, New York City. Goldwin Smith Hall, Room £, 5 p. M 

ARTS AND SCIENCE LECTURE— "The Young Goethe as the Author of the Original Faust," by Professor Eugene 
KuEHNEMANN of the University of Breslau, Germany, Goldwin Smith Hall, Room B, 8 p. M. 

FRIDAY, February 12 

ONE HUNDREDTH ANNIVERSARY OF THE BIRTH OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN— All University exercises suspended 
between the hours of 12 and i. Address by the Honorable Frank S. Black of New York City, former Governor of the 
State of New York. Armory, I2 M. 

UNIVERSITY FACULTY— Meeting. Boardman Hall, Room C, 4 p. m. 

ARTS AND SCIENCE LECTURE— "Reconstmction of Theology," by the Rev. Hugh Black of the Union Theological Sem 
inary. New York City. Goldwin Smith Hall, Room B, 5 P. M. 

AGASSIZ CLUB— Meeting. "Adaptation for Aquatic Respiration in Insects," talk by Me. J- T. Lloyd. All interested are cor- 
dially invited. McGraw Hall, Geological Lecture Room, 7:30 p. M. 



SUNDAY, February 14 



SAGE CHAPEL— The Rev. Hugh Black. M A Presbyterian, Union Theological Seminary, New York City. Morning 
vice at ii o'clock. Vesper service at 3:15 o'clock. 



VESPER SERVICE 
The (r.l1o«ing is ihe musical ptogram lo be c 
in Sage Chapel on Sunday. February 7. «l 3 'S 
Prelude— ■•Cantilene" 
How lovelv ire Thy dwellings fair 
Hymn -603 



Gounod 



Behold ihe Lord 
How blest ate tl 
Sevenfold Amen 
Posllude—" Fitiale" (from and Sonala) - MendtU 



How blest ate they ... Tthatko.sky 

Sevenfold . 



CONSULTATION HOURS BY THE REV. HUGH BLACK 
The Rev- Hugh Black will occupy Ihc Sage Chapel pulpit on tx 
bruary 7lh and February 14th During the intervening week he * 
aain in Ithaca and will be at Barnes Hall from ii to 1 daily for cons 
ion with any students who may desire lo Speak with him. 



A Mrpk in tljp Intu^ratta (Calpitiar 



At Cornell 

in fame or gain, are so great as in the other activi- 
ties, moreover, the work is distinctly intellectual. 
This latter reason may also be assigned to explain 
the small interest displayed in the prizes offered by 
the University, both in oratory, and for literary 
essays. To excel, where the student body itself 
frames the conditions and awards the prizes, is the 
goal of the honor seeker's ambition. 

It would require much space, to enumerate 
even, all the ram if act ions of the aggregate of student 
activities. What it may mean in the life of individ- 
uals is perhaps best illustrated by the following 
"statistics" of the two candidates for the presidency 
of a recent senior class, as published in the "Sun" 
before the election: 

— — : Course in Arts; Delta Upsilon 

Phi Beta Kappa; Sphinx Head; Aleph Samach 
Scalp and Blade; freshman crew; class crew (2) 
class footbaU team (2); '94 Debate Stage (2), (3) 
Intercollegiate debate team (2), (3); Junior Varsity 
crew (2) ; Varsity four-oared (2) ; class crew director 
(3) ; vice-president debate council (3) ; Moakley 
house fund committee (3) ; general committee (3) ; 
chairman Junior smoker committee (3) ; president 
debate council (4) ; secretary intercollegiate debate 
league (4). 

: Entered with the class of 

1909, from . His statistics are as follows: 

Course in Arts; Kappa Alpha; Quill and Dagger; 
Aleph Samach; Nalanda; Book and Bowl; vice- 

280 



Student Life of Everyday 

president C. U. C. A. (2); Glee club (1); Sun board 
(1), (2) ; managing editor Sun (3) ; editor-in-chief (4) ; 
class treasurer (2) ; class president (3) ; '80 Memorial 
Oratorical Stage (3) ; Sophomore banquet committee 

(2). 

Perhaps it is the school of student activities, 
or definitely, its demands on the individual's time, 
that develops the marked inventive genius which 
the student body in general evidences in its num- 
berless petitions to the faculty; petitions which, as 
a rule, ask that the petitioner may be permitted 
to evade some University requirement ; that he may 
be allowed to omit this, or substitute that course, 
or what not, and always with the most plausible, 
and often original reasons, for its favorable con- 
sideration, appended. All these petitions come to 
the registrar, David F. Hoy, familiarly, "Davy," 
for approval and his signature before they go to 
the faculty. The reaction resultant from all this 
creative genius on part of the student, is found in 
the preternatural shrewdness of Mr. Hoy in fathom- 
ing the motives w^hich underlie the requests, and in 
discovering "the nigger in the woodpile." That 
shrewdness is Davy's first characteristic, his second 
is an ability to emphatically refuse to endorse most 
of these plausible schemes. Thus Davy has come 
to be the natural enemy, the bete noir of the under- 
graduate, and they invest him with all the panoply 
of power over student affairs. This feeling is accentu- 
ated by the fact that Davy passes on the sufficiency 

281 



At Cornell 

of entrance credits. Moreover, his daily skirmishes 
with the students have not made him a soft man- 
nered official and, in consequence, much of Cornell 
legend concerns itself with Davy's famous retorts 
courteous. Perhaps the most staple of these is the 
story of the co-ed, somewhat advanced in years, 
who interviewed him on the event of her entrance 
into Cornell. It seems that she asked question after 
question, all of which he patiently and dogmatically 
answered, until finally she had exhausted her list. 
Then, cheerfully, she concluded, "Well, Mr. Hoy, 
I thank you very much; now is there perhaps, 
something more I ought to know, that you can 
suggest?" "Yes, madam, there is; you ought to 
learn to read, and here is a copy of the current 
register of the University." 

On another occasion a woman graduate, who 
possessed a mien which bespoke determination, was 
making the rounds of the professors with whom she 
wished to do graduate work; and one of the pro- 
fessors called up Mr. Hoy on the telephone, and 
asked whether she should be given credit for certain 
work done elsewhere. Hoy immediately queried, 
"Who is it?" and then, on hearing her name, 
replied, "Give her anything she wants; she'll get 
it anyway." When another student was refused 
part credit for work done in a certain institution, 
and thereupon protested vigorously saying, "he 
didn't see why he should not get full credit for all 
his work," Hoy demanded, "Did you expect us to 

282 






o 


m 


.^ 






» 


j; 


» 


J2 


>2 


^ 


9 





i^ 



Student Life of Everyday 

meet you at the station with a brass band when 
you came to Cornell?" 

The entrance requirements in English are very 
rigorously insisted upon at Cornell and, knowing 
this, one can readily figure that student's chances 
who wrote the registrar as follows: "Dear Mr. Hoy, 
I am sorry to inform you that I have flunked on 
my entrance trig, and history, but I aint so bad on 

English ." Another, a girl again, wrote to 

know "what was the official costume of the Sage 
Gym. girls?" 

Term examinations at Cornell come in what is 
known as "block week," a period of some ten days, 
at the end of January and in the first part of June, 
and those are times when probably more "grinding" 
is done than in all the rest of the term. Then, if a 
student fails to "pass up" the minimum number of 
hours, the registrar sends him a "bust notice;" a 
request to depart from the University's halls of 
learning, and the city, within five days; and he 
must remain absent for a term before he is permitted 
to return. If this happens several times in his 
career, he may be permanently excluded. Therefore, 
they are anxious times, those days immediately 
following the close of the examinations, for many 
then sit in trembling, relieved when any mail delivery 
fails to bring the fateful message. 

The period of suspense, however, which marks 
the climax of anxiety in a University career, for 
probably the majority of students, is the waiting 

285 



At Cornell 

for one's name to be "scratched" at the end of the 
senior year. Some days before the end of the last 
examination period a hst of all those who can pos- 
sibly be graduated is posted in the hallway outside 
the registrar's office, and there the anxious seniors 
foregather, almost hourly, to see if their names 
have been "scratched." When a name is crossed 
out or "scratched" on this list, it means that he or 
she has fulfilled all the requirements for graduation, 
and thereafter the world knows no cares until com- 
mencement days are over, and the ushering into 
the coldly-greeting world occurs. 




iiii]t (Sraiiuatintt l^tattBBian 



286 



®l|? Hcrkmg §>tub^nt at OInrnrU 



Eift Unrktng ^tub^nt at ffinrn^U 



m 



. I HERE is, perhaps, no other University which 
II affords the working student so many oppor- 
tunities for winning his way, as does Cornell. 
And, while only a few men succeed in paying all 
the expenses of a four-year course, by the activities 
carried on while in school, quite a few do accomplish 
this by supplementing their earnings during term 
time with the proceeds from work done in the 
summer vacations. As the University calendar is 
now arranged, Cornell summer vacations are longer 
than those scheduled by the other large institutions 
of the country, a fact which is often of importance 
in securing employment in the beginning of the 
summer, before the competition becomes strenuous, 
and again, in enabling the acceptance of many 
positions where the work continues until late in 
September. Thus, for example, in the coming year, 
instruction does not begin at Cornell tmtil October 
the first; and most undergraduates find it possible 
to leave before June the tenth, and accordingly 
are afforded almost sixteen weeks free from school 
duties. 

20 * 289 



At Cornell 

In the smaller institutions of collegiate rank, 
there is little opportunit}^ for self help. Such col- 
leges are located, as a rule, in small communities, 
whose business enterprises themselves are in many 
cases, in large part dependent on the custom of the 
students and of the institution. Moreover, the 
majority of their students are drawn from the 
immediate locality in which the institution is located, 
and in general from families whose fortunes are 
not great. The institution being small, its adminis- 
tration is not complex, and consequently is carried 
on almost wholly by its regularly employed faculty 
and officers. Thus, as neither the college nor the 
student Ijody spends much money, there is little to 
be earned. 




(ii)it a Itltutrr Aftrrmuiu 
290 



The Working Student at Cornell 

In the other large eastern universities the 
working student, on the other hand, is at a much 
greater social disadvantage than at Cornell, and 
this is not an insignificant factor. For example, 
possibly as large a number of students find employ- 
ment as table waiters as the sum of all those engaged 
in other ways. And this service carries with it no 
stigma. Men who have "waited table" are elected 
to class offices, make fraternities, and commonly are 
the good friends of those on whom they wait. For 
such service they get their board free, and the time 
required is about twenty-five hours per week. Each 
waiter has, on the average, twelve men to serve, 
and, as a rule, these diners will, because they are 
normal youths and hungry, or to accommodate the 
waiter, come promptly at meal times, enabling the 
waiter to do his work rapidly and be free. 

Akin to the task of waiting on table, in that 
there is no money payment, is that of tending fur- 
nace in one of the numerous rooming houses on the 
hill. This task has the disadvantage of necessitating 
late hours at night, and getting up early in the 
morning. For such work a man is given a room 
free of rent, generally, it is true, one of the less 
desirable ones in the house. One marvels some- 
times at the amount of work some fellows can per- 
form and not suffer physically or mentally from the 
strain. Thus a man who was recently graduated 
with high marks and robust health, from the 
mechanical engineering college, Sibley, arose at 

291 



At Cornell 

about four in the morning, replenished the furnace 
fires at his house, then went up on the hill, a half 
mile walk, and performed some light janitorial 
service in the class rooms of his college, then came 
back to the boarding house, had his breakfast and 
afterwards waited table, and then, finally, went to 
his classes. At noon and at night he also filled his 
positions at the table and in caring for the furnaces. 
Yet this man managed to find time for, and see, 
most of the intercollegiate games and contests 
which occurred at Ithaca, and there again, turned 
his presence to good account, by securing a jDOsition 
as ticket taker at the grandstand, which service 
entitled him to free admission and a money pay- 
ment in addition. Of course, only a very few men 
could carry such a load and succeed in passing up 
their university work, especially in the engineering 
colleges, where the schedules are heavy and the 
courses difficult. 

Nor is it necessary in most cases that they 
should. The great majority of the students who 
want work while at college, desire simply to supple- 
ment their resources, and a few dollars saved each 
week means quite a sum. Thus, free board, at the 
rate of four dollars and a half, represents a saving 
of some one hundred and fifty dollars each year. 
Rooms range in rent from one and a half, to ten 
dollars per week, the latter, of course, not available 
to the furnace tender. But when one considers that 
expenses can be pared down to, say four hundred 

292 



The Working Student at Cornell 

dollars for the college year, the sums saved in such 
ways are found to form no inconsiderable amount 
of this total. 

There are many other fields for tmskilled labor 
in the performance of a variety of tasks. Some are 
of an occasional nature, such as the care of the 
lawns surrounding professors' cottages; others afford 
steady employment. Typical of these latter, may 
be mentioned the delivery of packages for the 
various stores downtown. The pay for this approxi- 
mates from three to four dollars per week, and 
requires about two hours each day, except Saturday, 
when considerably more time must be given. Col- 
lecting accounts comes also under this head. It 
would seem that the greater a man's allowance is, 
the less money he has for the payment of his bills. 
In consequence, many students must be dunned 
repeatedly before they will pay, so that the collector 
for a firm seldom lacks employment. 

One of the partners of an Ithaca firm which 
sells student supplies, told me incidentally, in the 
course of a conversation, that they had always had 
a student in their employ whose business it was to 
visit all the bulletin boards in the University build- 
ings, and copy the notices posted, that the firm 
might secure prompt information as to material 
which would be required by the various classes. 
On my way up the hill yesterday a student stopped 
me to ask when it would be convenient for him to 
call and collect my telephone bill for toll service. 

293 



At Cornell 

Duties of the most diverse sorts are ])erfornied by. 
students; everywhere one meets with a new ])hase 
of this kind of service. Of a httle different nature, 
and perhaps demanding the expenditure of more 
brain energy and re(|uiring some abiUty, is the work 
done by students who act as clerks in the l)ook and 
supply stores, particukudy in the co-operative store, 
on the Campus, familiarly known as the "Co-op." 
Every student's schedule will show vacant hours 
between classes and these are ])rofitably employed 
bcliind the counter. The University library also 
employs a number of students to replace books in 
the stacks, and similar tasks, which can be per- 
formed at odd hours. The remuneration is fifteen 
cents ])cr hour, and higher ])ay for skilled assistants 
who are at the desk, evenings. 

Elsewhere, mention has l)een made of the com- 
petitive systems by which men are secured to fill 
the various positions on the editorial and managing 
boards of the college jmblications. There are sub- 
stantial money returns — "velvet," in student par- 
lance for those who secure jolaces on at least two of 
these ])a])ers, — the Cornell Daily Sun, and the Widow, 
the comic bi-monthly. The following ([notation, 
from the Sun, announcing such a competition for 
freshmen, is ty])ical. It is ])receded by the statement 
that at a meeting, at a given time and place, con- 
ditions and methods of the work of collecting and 
writing the news will 1)e explained. Then: "The 
com])etition will be short, lasting but twelve weeks 

294 












(Cornrll 1!ln^pr!Jra^uatp ^ulillrationa 



The Working Student at Cornell 

of publication, and at the end of that time, one 
man will be elected to the editorial board, and will 
have every opportunity to later secure the positions 
of managing editor and editor-in-chief. The work 
is of the most interesting character and for the 
successful competitor the position on the Sun board 
lasts throughout his college course." 

The competitive system is characteristic also of 
other propositions, but has, perhaps, been nowhere 
more systematically developed than by the ''Student 
Agencies.'' Under their control are a student dining 
hall, a student room renting agency, a student 
laundry agency, a transfer agency, and other agencies 
too numerous to mention. Their scheme of selection 
is as follows : From among the freshmen who apply 
for work, a dozen or more of the most likely are 
selected and given employment as waiters in the 
dining hall — for which service they receive free 
board. At the end of the freshman year, two men 
from this number, are chosen for dining hall collec- 
tors, and these make the weekly collection from the 
boarders. One of these two men is promoted to the 
position of head waiter, in his junior year, and 
becomes manager in his senior year. The renum- 
eration increases with the increased responsibilities 
and duties of the position. 

From among the ranks of the waiters who 
failed to secure the collector positions, are chosen 
four who are transferred to the laundry agency. 
Others are employed for the room agency. At the 

297 



At Cornell 

beginning of the year, the duties of both these 
groups is to sohcit business from the incoming 
freshman class, and from the returning undergradu- 
ates. After the term has started, the most successful 
and promising men in these groups are employed as 
collectors for the laundry. They collect the bags of 
laundry each Monday morning, and distribute the 
packages at the end of the week, and each month 
collect the amounts due the agency. For this service 
they each receive a percentage on the gross amount 
of laundry shipped that week, each man's earnings 
averaging between five and seven dollars a week. 
By a process of elimination again, there are selected, 
from the collectors of the sophomore year, the 
assistant managers of the laundry and the room 
agency, and these men become the managers-in- 
chief in their senior year. 

This scheme is comprehensive in its scope, and 
it works out admirably, I am told, in practice. 
Inexperience in any business or employment is the 
keynote of inefficiency of student labor in most 
cases, and this plan provides that there shall always 
be a trained man to initiate the newcomers. The 
competitors like it also, promotions are rapid, if 
they come at all, and those who fail in the final 
competitions have their eyes opened to many other 
opportunities outside, during their experience as 
collectors, and- need not lack employment in 
the following year if they follow up promising 
openings. 

298 



The Working Student at Cornell 

The man who has had business experience or 
technical training of some kind before coming to the 
University has a distinct advantage. Thus, student 
stenographers are often employed by professors, and 
those who possess typewriters find profitable employ- 
ment in copying lecture notes, and the like material, 
for other students. The average pay received for 
such work is ten cents per sheet. Previous training 
in military drill practically insures a position as 
commissioned officer in the University cadet corps, 
which means a salary from the University; while 
the chance of securing the position of University 
Master of the Chimes is open to those with musical 
talent. Mechanical and architectural draughtsmen 
secure from twenty-five to fifty cents an hour 
for their work, and men well versed in some 
subject, for example, a foreign language, secure 
from one to two dollars an hour for their time 
as tutors. 

Most of the tutoring, however, comes to the 
men who, as juniors in exceptional cases, and as 
seniors quite often, secure positions as undergraduate 
assistants on the University faculty. For such 
service they are paid from one hundred to five 
hundred dollars per year with free tuition. Their 
duties consist in grading reports and examination 
papers and assisting in giving instruction in labora- 
tory classes. The president's report for the current 
year shows that some one hundred and forty-four 
students were employed in this capacity. 

301 



At Cornell 

The business career of the exceptional man is 
often remarkable. One student, now graduated, 
and owner of a manufacturing plant, came to 
Cornell with thirty dollars in his pocket, finished 
his course, and left the institution with over a 
thousand dollars capital, earned over and above 
his expenses while a student. Nor was this man 
older than the average undergraduate. Another 
man invented a new^ style note book for student's 
use, secured a patent on it, and it made an immediate 
success. Today it is used almost exclusively by 
the student body. And so it goes. Many other 
special pursuits could be mentioned if space per- 
mitted citing them. Noteworthy it is, however, as 
the foregoing pages will bear witness, that the 
"willing to work" have offered to them many 
avenues of employment, if they enter Cornell. 



302 



Htufer BpnvtB 



Hitit^r ^pnrtH 



CORNELLIANS are wont to fully appreciate the 
balmy days of spring, when fresh green leaves 
again peep forth from the swelling buds on the 
elms which arch over the Campus avenues; and 
they also respond to the mad invigoration of the 
Indian Summer time, when reds and yellows paint 
the landscape with warmth, and the rustling leaves 
underfoot invite to gayety. For there is small 
quality of mildness in winter, as one notes that 
phenomenon on the Cornell Campus. Fiercely buf- 
feting winds, whistling around the corners of build- 
ings and bringing with them blinding flurries of 
snow, which piles in drifts on the walks, constitute 
typical winter at Cornell; and one realizes, as seldom 
in other seasons, that the Campus is a hilltop, and 
gets the weather, all there is of it, and gets it w^hile 
it is being made. At times it seems as though the 
weather man were, indeed, experimenting on Cor- 
nellians, for the changes in temperature are particu- 
larly astonishing, one day mild and balmy, the next, 
bitter, biting cold. And cloudy — if it snows anywhere 
in the country around, Cornell is sure to get her share. 

305 



At Cornell 



But, after all, 
these little tem- 
pers of the win- 
ter weather are 
only minor 
considerations, 
something to 
talk about in 
fact, and only 
bother when one 
has to get up 
unpleasantly- 
early and make 
an eight o'clock. 
As for the rest, 
they only add 
zest to the days, 
give them spice 
and variety; 
moreover, they 
furnish the snow 
and the ice 
which in winter 
are the main incentives to participation in outdoor 
sports, by all the undergraduates and the faculty 
as well. 

These winter sports center mainly around Beebe 
lake. This little sheet of w^ater, measuring, perhaps, 
a quarter -mile in each dimension, lies just off the 
Campus, and in a hollow, with high slopes on three 




QlpnJral Awphup — Witttpr 



306 



Winter Sports 

sides. Its situation protects it from the wind, 
moreover, its shallowness permits it to be frozen 
over quickly, ideal conditions both to promote all 
skating possibilities. 

The ice first forms early in December, and 
generally -persists until mid February; but there 
are many partial thaws during the winter. 

The Minor Sports association has charge of the 
lake, and with the funds secured by selling skating 
and toboganning tickets, maintains an area, equal 
to perhaps half that of the whole lake, free from 
snow. A portion of this cleared area is reserved for 
a hockey rink, for the use of the teams, the rest is 
available to the University community in general. 
On Saturday afternoons, if the skating is good, and 
the weather just a wee bit mild and sunshiny, one 
is always sure of finding a great crowd assembled 
at Beebe, and on other afternoons of equal favor- 
ableness the numbers are diminished but a little. 
It is a pretty sight, and one that invites even the 
most sluggish soul to participation. During Junior 
Week, when the undergraduates entertain their 
feminine friends with house parties and dances,, 
there is one night set aside, always, for the Ice 
Carnival. This is a gala occasion on Beebe, for 
the ice is specially lighted, and a canvas walled 
enclosure is decorated with festoons of colors and 
evergreens. A band is secured, and no one 
knows of such a thing as fatigue while skating 
to its strains. 

307 



At Cornell 

But first and foremost of the winter joys at 
Beebe is the toboggan slide. A merry throng always 
assembles there on pleasant afternoons and moon- 
light nights; and, although every few seconds a 
toboggan load of shouting coasters goes crashing 
down the ice trough of the slide, yet the waiting 
line at the head often lengthens interminably. The 
slide at Cornell differs from those in many other 
places, in that it is not banked for the length of the 
course. On leaving the incline, the toboggans shoot 
out upon the level expanse of the lake ice, and, if 
the conditions are favorable, have momentum enough 
to carry them to the far shore. It is, therefore^ 
incumbent on the steersman, who clings to the rear 
end, to keep the flying machine headed true and 
straight during the passage, else an upset is certain. 
His whole body often extends at arm's length from 
the rear, like a rudder on an airship, only his shoe 
tips scrape along the ice as he swings from side to 
side. The steering is an art, not learned on a first 
experience, consequently, there is often a veer from 
the straight course — the toboggan swings sideways 
over into the snow, and a grand spill occurs, when 
man and maid, indiscriminately, turn summersaults; 
a sight which affords unlimited amusement to an 
ever present crowd of spectators. 

vSkeeing on the hills affords the most exciting 
of all the winter sports, and, although the feats of 
the Cornellians who indulge in it do not rival those 
of the Norwegians, yet the ski runners who come 

308 





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hurLlin.^' down llu* hill hcliiiid \\\c Uiiivcrsil \' r;inii, 
take sonic inlcrcsl ini; ItMps and IninhK-s in I heir 
course down Ihc loni^, sunlil slopes. 

I''in;dl\', I licrc .ifc I he sleii^h and 1 )ol > slc( 1 j );ni.ies, 
which h.ix'c Ihc hotels ;ind connli\' clnhs of Ihc 
nei^hl loriiii', villa|;es h)|- ;i j'o.il, willi hoi .snppiTS 
and niciT\' d.-niccs .'impended hnl, as. Ihc roads thev 
t!"averse are ojlcn dark, one i-an oiil\' luiinns.c llu- 
dcia ils. ( )l I licsc winlcf I n ilies. 







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pijaB^B nf 1J|^ Atljlrttr Ktft 



pijas^B of tlj^ Atljbttr ^£xU 

3T IS, PERHAPS, only natural that there should 
be an exhuberant reaction, physical, where the 

action is of the impelled intellectual character, 
such as the pursuit of prescribed University work 
imposes on every student. Thus, there has been 
built up a world within a world in University life, 
and the inner world is athletics; and around this 
inner world undergraduate interest centers most 
intensely. Yet it has been said, that despite this 
interest, too many students take their athletics as 
spectators instead of getting into the game; but, 
while there is room for improvement, in general 
this is untrue of Cornell athletic life, for one need 
only cross the Campus to come in touch with the 
breadth of its scope, and the general participation. 

Several years ago push ball seemed to show 
possibilities of affording opportunity to the great 
mass of students to take part in a game which 
afforded actual strife, and physical contact with the 
opponents; and in the desire to overcome by brute 
force the man with whom he is matched, may be 
understood the keen appetite of the male being for 

315 



At Cornell 

athletics. And when one sees the huge ball which is 
the "bone" of contention, urged and worried about 
the drill green by a score of husky youth, of an eve- 
ning, after a day of confinement in lecture room and 
laboratory, ones limbs fairly tingle to get in and help. 




'diark" iHnaklpy at tljr loarft Srark 
316 



Phases of the Athletic Life 

Lacrosse, with all its dash and vim, also finds 
its numerous devotees practising on the Campus 
lawns near the Armory; but probably the most 
familiar phase of athletic life, and the one most apt 
to greet the visitor's eye, are Jack Moakley's white 
clad runners. Especially picturesque (or perhaps 
unique would be a better adjective), are these, when 
one meets them, clad in sleeveless, low necked 
shirts, and knee length linen running "pants," 
sprinting around the board track, regardless of the 
snow and cold of a bitter winter's day. To the 
uninitiated, especially to the feminine eye, this is 
•compellingly novel and ' wondrous fortitude. And 
the governing center of this activity is "Jack," as 
he paces from point to point, about the track, seeing 
everything; those who come in and who go out, 
advising, commenting, admonishing, as may be 
needed. Without his figure, the scene would be 
incomplete — nor would the Intercollegiate cham- 
pionship in Track come to Cornell with such regu- 
larity, to say nothing of her impregnable first place 
in cross country running. 

Inside the Armory the base ball cage has been 
draped over the drill-floor, and ambitious competi- 
tors are already busily working for a place on the 
team. This indoor practice affords a novel spectacle 
to many "fans," and prepares for the visit upstairs, 
where the crew men swing rhythmically to their 
work at the rowing machines, under the watchful 
eye of the "Old Man" and his assistants, the cox- 

317 



At Cornell 




A ii^apjig ©rraainn 

swains. "Courtney's stroke" has never been super- 
seded or rivalled, either by the ingenious inventions 
or the muscle of Cornell's opponents on the water. 

Basket ball, hockey, fencing, hand-ball, tennis, 
boxing and wrestling all have their adherents and 
all are represented in the activities of the Gym- 
nasium and in the Armory. Truly these afford a 
most varied field from which to choose, and offer 
little excuse for non-participation by the student. 

So much for the athletic life of the Campus. 
It is only secondary to the interest which, with the 
years, has centered at Percy field, "Percy Field 



318 



Phases of the Athletic Life 



Days;" that is a phrase to conjure with when in 
converse with Cornell alumni; what picturesque 
recollections, even the mental picture of its environ- 
ment suggests. The white arched entrance, and 
above it the forest covered slopes of Deadhead Hill, 
with the sand pit cut in its face, whose summit 
rim is always outlined in black by the crowding 
figures of the deadheads assembled to see the game. 
Then, looking ahead, there was the field, and the 
thronged stands opposite, while in the distance the 
greenery of willows hemmed in the scene. 

But before the game there was the march to 
the field, a rollicking, cheering, snake-dancing horde 
of studes, and withal an impressive sight, with the 
preponderant mass of gray-capped frosh closing in 

the rear, all go- 
ing down to 
cheer the team, 
and help Cornell 
to victory by 
their enthusiasm 
and devotion to 
clean sport, her 
ideal. Nor were 
the thunderous 
rolls of Cornell 
cheers " long 
ones, "and "now 
three short 
(Enurtttfg ana ti\t (ttoxHtnatna ones ' ' anything 




319 



At Cornell 

but success compelling, as the sections responded 
singly or together, to the art of the cheer leaders. 

Supremacy in track and on the water have 
become, in a sense, an accepted and expected fact 
at Cornell. In baseball, too, while not champions, 
her men are always to be considered in the fore- 
front when making up the standings. Thus, while 
there is a zest always for new victories and fresh 




(Cnurtttpg at JJougl^kpppatp 

320 



Phases of the Athletic Life 

laurels in these domains, it is for the premier posi- 
tion in football that the undergraduates have 
yearned for years. Classes have entered and been 
graduated without that coveted morsel, the winning 
of a big game at Ithaca, falling to their lot. But in 
nineteen hundred and seven the ban was lifted, and 
the consummation devoutly to be wished, a knot 
in the Tiger's tail, securely tied. That was a day! 

Probably never before had such a crowd 
assembled at Percy field. Fifteen thousand specta- 
tors crowded the stands, and those who had no seats 
were packed three and four deep around the field 
inclosure. The ball was in Princeton's territory 
practically throughout the game, yet it was a hard- 
fought battle. It was Cornell's day, and everybody 
seemed to realize the fact. From stand to stand the 
cheers rolled continuously, only offering an interlude 
occasionally for the Princeton supporters to make 
themselves heard. Again and again, bursts of song 
came almost spontaneously, and there the hoodoo, 
which seemed in the past to have been attached to 
the thrilling measures of the Big Red Team was 
lifted, and its chorus, full lunged and lusty, swelled; 
even until it aroused the distant echoes: 

Cheer till the sound wakes the blue hills around, 
Makes the scream of the north wind yield 
To the strength of the yell, from the men of Cornell 
When the Big Red Team takes the field, 

Yea, yea, 
Three thousand strong we march, march along, 

22 d^l 



At Cornell 

From our home on the grey rock height, 

Oh! the victory is sealed when the team takes the field, 

And we cheer for the Red and White. 

And finally time is called, the game is over, 
and victory ours, and then, most impressive scene 
of all, comes the singing of Alma Mater, with heads 
bared, by the whole throng of undergraduates, 
gathered to a center. Ah, then one feels the spirit 
of Cornell, and the embodiment of the ideal for 
which it stands. To those who scoff, and deny the 
existence of such intense devotion among the class- 
men of a university, one need but commend their 
being present at such a singing of Alma Mater. 

There is another time when this large and 
living loyalty to Cornell finds expression; and that 
is at a "meeting of the team" at the railway station, 
when the team returns from a contest away from 
Ithaca. Whether they come conquerors or con- 
quered, it matters not, there is always a crowd to 
welcome back those who fought for Cornell's fame 
abroad. 

Perhaps the most animated scenes, of all those 
which mark these glimpses of Cornell's athletic 
being, are those which attend the event of a Memo- 
rial Day Regatta on Lake Cayuga. Long before 
the scheduled time of the races, a dozen fleets seem 
suddenly to have been born on the lake, as innumer- 
able craft, row and motor boats, canoes, sail-boats 
and the excursion steamers all ply their way to the 
end of the course. Then the long moving grand- 

322 









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'g' ^ T 



Phases of the Athletic Life 

stand, the observation train, comes puffing along 
down the shore, a hydra-headed beast, with an 
engine at each end. Near evening patrol boats clear 
the course, but still the wind keeps up and the shells 
fail to appear. It comes to dusk, the wind-chopped 
sea persists. Spectators become restless. The more 
provident bring forth lunches, delectable bits of 
food, seemingly fit for the gods, at least that is the 
way these lunches appeal to those who have not 
been so foresighted. Soon little bonfires show bea- 
con like flames all along the steep slope of the lake 
front, and cast a lurid light on the waters below. 
Finally, at eight o'clock, the wind abates, slow, oily 
sw^ells replace the choppy sea, and the crews put in 
an appearance. They start; the observation train 
rolls along thunderously, with engine bells clanging, 
suiting its speed to that of the racing shells. Excur- 
sion boats careen dangerously, as the hoarse bellow- 
ing of the coxswains announces the approach of the 
flying racers from out of the gloom. They pass, 
thin black streaks filled with rhythmically-swaying 
figures, whose labored breathing one catches, ming- 
led with the steady beat of the oars. 

A faint cheer announces that the line has been 
crossed; but by now it is so dark that only those 
who are stationed at the very finish can see who is 
victorious. Yet everyone is happy when Cornell is 
announced the winner — and then ensues the final 
scene of a regatta on Cayuga, an almost ludicrous 
streaming back to Ithaca on part of all concerned; 

325 



At Cornell 

on the shore the rumbhng train, margined on both 
sides by a crawhng hne of pedestrians; on the lake, 
steamers, launches, motor-boats, sail-boats, row- 
boats and canoes all mingled in a great confusion. 



326 



OIuBtnmB nnh ©rabtttons 



Qlu0t0ma anb Sra&tttnnB 



^^HE freshman at Corneir certainly has an easy 
Ltl time of it. Hazing is not known. There are 
simply a few "don'ts" for him to observe, and 
only a couple of "do's" for him to obey. In special 
cases, w^here he affiliates with some organization, he 
may be more sorely tried, but what follows is the 
sum total applying to the average first-year man. 

He must wear a Frosh cap. This is a flimsy 
gray thing with a black button, and except that it 
singles him out from the rest of the classmen, has 
no more odious quality than the impression it gives 
of only in part serving one's need of a head covering. 
But lest the babe catch cold in winter, when icy 
blasts sweep across Cornell's hill -top campus, he is 
permitted, on cold days, to wear a toque, covering 
his ears, of the same gray shade, and with a black 
tassel. He must wear a coat at all times on the 
campus. His other duty is to go to the post-office, 
formerly at seven, on every evening of weekdays, 
but now only on Sunday morning, for the mail of 
the fraternity or rooming house where he lives. 
The "don'ts" are still more innocuous. He must 

329 



At Cornell 

not smoke on the campus at all, nor may he smoke 
a pipe outside his house; he must not be seen at 
certain resorts unaccompanied by an upperclassman, 
and at some not at all, and he must not occupy a 
seat in the first three rows or in the boxes at the 
Lyceum. That is the substance of the law as it is 
revealed to him by those who have passed on ahead, 
and that he may not err, these commandments are 
printed for him, with other wisdom, in a "Bible" 
which the University Christian Association publishes. 
There is, however, another hardship that the 
average freshman must suffer, unless he is excused 
for athletics, and that is "Drill." It comes thrice a 
week, and upperclassmen are the company officers; 




Panorama of tljf 



330 



Ctistoms and Traditions 

but under the new regime some of the stings it 
formerly contained, seem to have been extracted 
and indeed the freshman comes often for his hay- 
foot, straw-foot, with a smihng face now-a-days. 
Cornell, as is mentioned elsewhere, owes part of its 
endowment to the Morrill Land Grant Act, and, 
under the provisions of this, compulsory military 
training is required. Thus Drill is indeed a custom, 
one which is never allowed to lapse. 

In former years the great outburst of underclass 
rivalry was the occasion of the Freshman banquet. 
Unorganized rushes often occurred in the night 
preceding the President's annual address at the 
beginning of the term, but these were not recog- 




IF»aljman Saitqupt Mualj 



331 



At Cornell 

nized and are now practically abolished. The 
Banquet rush, in a legalized form, is still preserved, 
but one must know its progenitor to appreciate its 
present status. 

The original Freshman banquet and its con- 
comitant activities, meant a practical suspension of 
University work for three days to the underclassmen. 
It was the ambition of every freshman to be at his 
class banquet, given in later years at the Armory, 
without being caught by sophomores previous to 
the hour of its occurrence. If caught, he was held 
in durance vile until the afternoon preceding the 
banquet, and then, with painted face and clad in a 
costume which was the sophomore conception of 
the height of the ridiculous, he was forced to march 
in a "peerade" through the downtown streets, then 
up the hill, around the campus, and finally thrust 
unceremoniously into the banquet hall. 

Hostilities began three days before the time set 
for the feast. To venture from his room to go to a 
class, or for a meal, meant almost certain capture 
for the freshman. Consequently he kept inside 
during the day, sneaking out at night for food or 
else to escape to one of the neighboring hamlets, 
until the night preceding the banquet night, when, 
in some mysterious way, he learned of a trysting- 
place from whence all the yet uncaptured "frosh" 
were to make one grand rush for the shelter of the 
Armory, which was neutral ground during all this 
strenuous period. 

.332 



Customs and Traditions 

The sophomores, on the other hand, prowled 
around m httle bands, especially at night, carrying 
ropes and capturing and tying up unfortunate or 
venturesome skulkers, or more commonly making 
raids on the rooming houses, hauling forth their 
victims, and conveying them down town to a guarded 
hall where they were kept prisoners. An especial 
effort was made to secure the freshmen class officers, 
and to prevent these and the speakers from getting 
to the banquet at all. 

Incidents in this strife at times assumed an 
almost spectacular character, as may w^ell be imag- 
ined. Three freshmen ensconced in an attic, on one 
such occasion, kept up a two-hours' fight, warding 
oft\ with poles thrust through the dormer windows 
and the trap door of the attic, the horde of sopho- 
mores, who, supplied with ladders, were bent on 
securing them at any cost. Two of the freshmen 
were finally caught, but at the cost of a hole chopped 
in the roof of the house; while the third escaped 
by breaking through the ceiling, dropping into a 
room below, and sneaking out of the rear of the 
house. On another occasion the rush of the fresh- 
men for the Armory was repelled by streams of 
water from fire hose which the sophomores had 
coupled to the hydrants. Again, the freshmen 
president once succeeded in gaining the Armory 
stowed away in a flour barrel on a farmer's wagon. 

These contests, though rarely resulting in any 
injury to the participants, won the disapproval of 

333 



At Cornell 




the faculty because of the serious interference with 
University work, and drastic action on their part 
resulted in a total omission of the banquet for one 
year. In the next year, however, a scheme was 
concocted which eliminated this objection, and this 
plan proved successful enough to warrant its con- 
tinuance. 

According to the new arrangement, the whole 
matter is the affair of an afternoon. The freshmen, 
in squads of ten, six squads at a time, range them- 
selves on the far side of the drill ground, opposite 
an equal number of squads of sophomores, and, at 
a given signal, the freshmen rush to get across the 
sophomore line. If they are successful in this, in 
three minutes' time, they are safe, and go to the 
banquet unmolested; if caught and held, they must 



334 



Customs and Traditions 

submit to decoration, and march in the sophomore 
"peerade." The freshmen who escape have the 
privilege of going back within the hnes to rescue 
classmates whom the sophomores have penned, or to 
capture and carry off to the Armory any sophomores 
who are within the enclosure. Once within the 
Armory, these unlucky sophomores endure the same 
fate as the captured freshmen, except the necessity 
of exposure to public view. 

The incidents of such a rush are comical in the 
extreme. Interest centers on the efforts of the foot- 
ball stars who are, of course, expected to do big 
things, yet often fail ludicrously. Again the erratic 
in human character often crops out, as in the case 
of the freshman who clothed himself in overalls and 
then smeared himself from head to foot with crude 
petroleum. He expected to escape like a greased 
pig at a country fair, to literally slip through the 
hands of his opponents, or to be avoided as one flees 
from the unclean; but he misjudged the temper of 
the sophomores. Practically the whole opposing 
squad combined on him, and he had hardly a stitch 
of his oily clothing intact when they marched him 
away captive. It was restored, however, by other 
garments, smeared with tar and covered with feath- 
ers, and thus accoutred, he marched in the 
"peerade." 

If Freshman banquet customs have been 
restricted and made more intensive. Spring Day 
festivities are every year becoming larger in scale. 

335 



At Cornell 

Spring Day, originally May Day, exists as a means 
to secure funds for the Athletic Association's coffers. 
This appeals to the student body as being "worthy" 
in much the same manner that the slogan "clothes 
for the heathen" arouses the ladies' aid society, in 
church circles, to undertake a fair. And indeed, 
the parallel runs farther, for on Spring Day "no 




A g'truggle 
336 



Customs and Traditions 

change" is the rule, and the attractions are even 
greater fakes than at the fairs, if such a thing is 
possible. 

Each year the nature of the revelry changes; 
the trend at present being to give a burlesque on a 
great circus, including all its attendant side shows 
and fakirs. There are tov ballons, and candv stands, 




A (Eaptiup 

337 



At Cornell 




"iBtU Saff'^paiing 1I|p 1309 "S^voBtf J^prrair" 

cane ringers, and pink lemonade, — the area under 
canvas compares favorably with that of many a 
show of national reputation. Where all the para- 
phernalia, tents, large and small, seats, barkers' 
stands, posters and paintings are secured, must 
always remain a mystery to the uninitiated, but the 
work of those in charge is certainly well executed. 



338 



Customs and Traditions 

The shows themselves are screaming travesties. 
The Law College offers a mock court, and in its 
service are uniformed policemen who hale criminals 
from the crowd and bring them before his "Honor" 
for judgement. Registrar Hoy was once indicted 
for incompetency in office, but the jury disagreed. 
The Architects have shown Ithaca being destroyed 
by an earthquake, the freshmen made much of their 
Paris by night, for men only — a birdseye view of 
Paris under the soft rays of an electric moon. Stray 
dogs to whose tails a multitude of colored balloons 
have been attached furnish much amusement by 




A "J^PPraiir" at tlif JProfilf 
339 



At Cornell 

their frantic and puzzled efforts to make their hind 
legs connect with the solid earth. From ten in the 
morning until two in the afternoon, the crowd surges 
unabated; and then the show ceases and the Ath- 
letic association's funds have been increased by 
several thousand dollars. 

Several athletic events, in which Cornell is 
participant, are generally on the program for Memo- 
rial Day, and, as success comes usually to Cornell, the 
evening of that day is marked by a celebration, con- 
sisting of a huge bonfire, with speech accompani- 
ments; the library slope being the scene of these 
festivities. The one spectacular feature of the even- 
ing, however, is the emancipation of the freshmen. 

All the year they have been dutifully wearing 
their gray "frosh" caps, and now, with only two 
weeks more of the school 3^ear remaining, their 
"froshdom" is declared at an end; and this great 
event they celebrate with boistrous hilarity in the 
"Burning of the Frosh Caps." Early in the evening 
the first-year men rally at an appointed place, the 
class fund provides fireworks, Roman candles, colored 
fire, and crackers in quantities, a column of fours is 
formed, and the class, numbering generally one- 
third the entire college enrollment, moves forward 
in its great "peerade." The line of march is a dizzy 
trail, keeping to no set path but wandering here and 
there over the campus, as fancy strikes the men in 
the lead. Coats are worn inside out, shirt tails flaunt 
the breeze, trousers are rolled high, revealing gor- 

340 




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3 



Customs and Traditions 




A Spring 53ag S'ibt ^ifova 

geous hosiery, and the marchers break again and 
again into mad snake dance steps and runs. 

Eventually the procession reaches the foot of 
the slope and then, with wild yells, they advance 
on each side of the fire and the air is literally filled 
with a shower of gray caps, tossed high into the 
leaping flames — and the "Frosh" are "Frosh" no 
longer. 

The Senior singing is, perhaps, the custom 
which most eloquently bespeaks the love of Cornell 
as Alma Mater which lives in the bosom of every 
undergraduate. Some half-dozen or more times in 
the last weeks of their college life, when the soft balm 
of early June pervades all the hill -crowning campus, 



343 



At Cornell 



the Seniors gather of an evening on the steps of Gold- 
win Smith Hall, and there, in the twilight, for an hour 
give voice to the Cornell songs, and to the popular 
airs, current in their time. At a distance, in a great 
semicircle, is the audience, to whom the voices of 
the singers come in space-softened chords. 

The moods of audience and performers alike 
change with the songs, but through it all there runs 
an undercurrent of feeling that they are but spelling 
a portion of their farewell to student days, to life on 
the hill, to Cornell herself. With the Senior it is a 
sadness of regret, lightened, perhaps, by the antici- 
pations of the future. The four years he has lived 




g>^rittg Say — uII)p Sarktra' S'tania 
344 



Customs and Traditions 




At tl|r 3ioot of ll|p g-Uiip 

among these scenes now seem but a fleeting instant, 
in time; in associations they are as though they 
dated from the beginning of things. It seems un- 
natural to be going away from Cornell, without any 
returning again to have a part in her affairs. True, 
he offers himself the doubtful comfort of a visit, but 
again, he thinks of alumni he has seen on the 
campus in his under-classman days, betraying the 
air of a stray cat with no business in those parts. 
And so he sings out his longing and yearning into the 
evening, taking a passionate leave of the familiar 
scenes of undergraduate days. 



345 



At Cornell 

In the audience there stirs a note of pity for the 
singers that they must go, but rising always above 
that pity, a Httle voice sounds incessantly, carolling, 
rejoicing, repeating that the ego of the audience may 
remain and live in Cornell days. It is as though a 
reprieve had been offered this being present at these 
last impressive senior rites. And then, as, at the end, 
the sun hovers like a red ball on the ridge of the 
distant hill, and the words of the evening song come 
tensely but softly; there is registered in every 
undergraduate's breast a resolve to live in those 
yet-granted years the full, true life of a Cornellian. 
With throbbing heart beat he listens, and murmurs 
in unison with the singers : 

When the sun fades far away 

In the crimson of the west, 
And the voices of the day 

Murmer low and sink to rest, 
Music with the twilight falls 

O'er the gleaming lake and dell. 
'Tis an echo from the walls 

Of our own, our fair Cornell. 
Welcome night and welcome rest 

Fading music fare thee well, 
Joy to all we love the best, 

Love to thee, our fair Cornell. 



346 



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